The Price of Victory
by Ashwinder
Summary: This story has been abandoned. Sorry. Voldemort's defeat brings a surprising result. This has nothing to do with my other stories. The rating is to be on the safe side.
1. Chapter One

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The Price of Victory, chapter 1

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A/N: I was not going to start a new story, I swear! But this darned plot bunny would not leave me alone!!! It's not my fault, really…This fic has nothing to do with my other stories. Standard disclaimer applies: I don't own the characters or the setting; JKR owns all that. I'm not even sure I own the plot…Please review.

Ginny watched Harry as he slept, his head pillowed in her lap. She brushed his unruly hair back from his forehead, exposing his scar for the briefest of moments. A year ago she would never have thought she'd ever have the privilege of being with him like this. A year ago, he'd not yet begun to notice her. 

And by tomorrow, it might all be over. He was going out to face Voldemort in the morning. He'd told her so earlier, and so they'd spent what might easily turn out to be their last evening together sitting up in the common room, loath to leave each other, until Harry's head had slumped over onto her shoulder. She had shifted until he'd come to rest in her lap, as he was now, his face calm in repose, completely belying the confrontation that would take place with the dawn.

Ginny did not feel tired yet. She was content to sit up and remember. Harry had finally taken notice of her last summer, when he'd come to the Burrow. It hadn't been much, but after years of burying her feelings, it had been enough to give her hope. She had caught him looking at her on more than one occasion. Simply looking. And then he had gone seemingly out of his way to include her. Granted, Ron had been doing more and more things with Hermione that did not include Harry: going for walks together, taking her on picnics… Ginny had come upon them snogging on more than one occasion, and she told herself that Harry was merely feeling left out and that was the reason he had sought her company.

As time passed, and they returned to Hogwarts for Harry's final year, Ginny had begun to suspect she'd been right and Harry had merely been passing the time with her. They'd fallen into a routine of classes and studying, as the seventh years prepared to take their NEWTs, which had greatly reduced the opportunities to socialise. And that didn't take into account any Death Eater threats, of which there had been an alarming amount. Ginny herself had had more than enough work to do to keep her occupied without having to worry about her lack of a love life. But on occasion, she'd still caught him staring, when he thought no one else was watching.

And then came the Christmas holiday. Ginny gave a sigh of contentment as she thought of it. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened until one particularly bright day between Christmas and New Year's. There was where it had begun: at that table over there. Ginny could just turn her head and see the table she'd been sitting at, trying to study… 

~*~

Ginny slammed the book she was reading shut. She was trying to study but could not bring herself to concentrate; it was just too quiet. Most Gryffindor students, and indeed most of the school, had gone home for the holiday. In fact, she was the only sixth year girl to have stayed. Harry, had stayed of course, as he always did, and Ron and Hermione had stayed along with him, although they'd spent more time in each other's company than with Harry. The common room was deserted now, and the sunny day beckoned to her. It really was too nice a day to be indoors studying. Ginny took her books up to her dormitory and got her cloak out. The fresh air would do her good.

As she returned to the common room, she ran into Harry, who had obviously just come in from outside. His cheeks were red from the cold, and his cloak was covered in snow. He must have been throwing snowballs with Ron. But her brother was now nowhere to be seen.

"What have you been up to?" she asked with a smile.

"Snowball fight," was his reply, "but Ron decided he had better things to do." He sounded as if he'd rather still be out there.

"Did his idea of better things to do include a trip to the library?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, it did. Honestly, there's still a good hour or two of daylight left, and he decides to spend the rest of the day in the library."

"And I don't suppose Hermione had anything to do with his sudden desire to study?"

"Got it in one."

"Well, I was about to go out for some air myself, if you're not ready to come in yet."

Ginny didn't expect him to take her up on her offer, but he did. He turned around without the slightest hesitation and climbed back out of the portrait hole. Ginny followed him without a word. 

It was one of those perfect winter days, when the air is crisp and cold, and the sky the bluest it can be. The sun shone brightly but without warmth, causing the snowfields on the Hogwarts grounds to sparkle like diamonds in the light. As soon as they were away from the school, Ginny bent down and swiftly made a snowball, which she let fly. It missed Harry's face by the narrowest of margins. Harry soon retaliated, but it seemed to Ginny he wasn't really aiming to hit her. She, on the other hand, used to avenging herself on her older brothers, gave no quarter, and she got in quite a few good hits, before Harry began to fight back in earnest. He began a merciless barrage, advancing on her as he threw snow, and forcing her to duck so often, she could not defend herself. The next thing she knew, he was standing in front of her. She tried to back away, but somehow a tree had found its way into her path, and she was trapped.

"Do you surrender?" Harry had an evil-looking grin on his face and a handful of snow. She knew he would wash her face with it; she could tell from his demeanour that he would.

"Never!"

She watched, as almost in slow motion, his hand moved up to shove the snow into her face. Years of fighting with her older brothers had allowed her to anticipate his move, and she ducked under his arm at the last possible moment. He pitched face first into the snow, but stood up with a roar almost immediately. And then he was chasing her across the grounds, his long legs quickly closing the distance between them. She shrieked as he caught her around the waist and spun her around in a whirl of flying hair and billowing black cloaks.

"Now I have you!" he shouted in triumph. "You're my prisoner!"

She struggled half-heartedly in his grasp, giggling, not entirely sure she wanted to escape. Then their eyes met and their smiles faded from their faces in the same instant. They stared at each other, Harry's green eyes flashing good-naturedly at her, as the moment stretched out, and they caught their breaths. Then it seemed as if Harry suddenly realised he was holding her about the waist. Without a word, he let his arms drop. Ginny sighed resignedly and began to walk back towards the school.

Harry fell into step beside her. She noted that he was walking closer to her than was really necessary. Their hands brushed. Then it happened again, and Ginny got the distinct impression that it wasn't an accident. She decided to test him, and gave him a playful nudge to the side, pushing him off the path. She was quite happy with his reaction: he nudged back. The were soon involved in a friendly shoving match which lasted until a giggling Ginny landed on her rump in the snow. For an instant she seemed to step outside herself and looked down on the picture she made in the snow, her red hair and black cloak creating a contrast with the field of white. She saw Harry reach out a hand to help her up. With a mischievous grin, she took his hand and pulled him into the snow beside her.

Before she could stand up and run, Harry had her again, pinned down beneath him, his hands holding her forearms above her head.

"Now I have you right where I want you," he crowed. "Just try and escape this time!"

Ginny shivered, but it wasn't from the cold. There was something about seeing him loom over her like this that made her breath come in shallow gasps. She tried to move tentatively, but it was useless. He had managed to fairly immobilise her.

"It's no use. You've caught me fair and square. Do your worst." What had possessed her to say that? Harry's gaze on her was inscrutable. Then he seemed to come out of a dream and stood up, reaching out his hand to help her up. Ginny hesitated before taking it. After all, she'd just pulled him into the snow. If he were one of her brothers, he'd find a way to retaliate for that trick. But Harry was not one of her brothers, and he helped her up without a word. 

When she was standing beside him, he did not release her hand immediately. She looked into his eyes and held his gaze. Something she saw there must have emboldened her, for she suddenly felt as if she needed to act, and now, or else this moment would be irrevocably gone as the last one was. She leaned towards him, intending to kiss the corner of his mouth, but at the last moment, he turned and kissed her full on the lips.

It was a fleeting kiss, begun and ended in less than a second, but Ginny did not mistake the electric current that flowed through her at the brief contact. Harry must have felt it as well, for his hands were at her waist again, drawing her closer. The second kiss lasted longer, and Ginny willingly parted her lips when she felt his mouth open under hers. The taste was sweeter than she'd imagined. For she'd hoped and prayed this day would come for years, and now that it had, she wanted to imprint the memory indelibly on her brain. She never wanted to forget this moment.

Harry pulled back from her. She could see his breath coming in shallow pants on the frosty air. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I shouldn't have done that."

Ginny's jaw dropped in shock, as his words registered and all her fantasies came crashing down. Then she saw red. She gave his shoulder and angry shove, sending him sprawling to the ground once more. "How dare you? How dare you snog me senseless and apologise? What the hell have you got to apologise for?"

Harry remained where he was in the snow. He had the grace to look contrite. "I didn't mean to do that. I mean, I wanted to. I've wanted to since last summer, but you weren't supposed to know.

"What wasn't I supposed to know?"

Harry stared at the ground and muttered something inaudible.

"I didn't hear that."

Harry looked up at her and held her gaze. "I said, you weren't supposed to know I had feelings for you." His face was turning a dull red before her eyes.

"Why?" she asked simply.

"I didn't want to put you in danger." His eyes continued to hold hers. "If I let this be known, I'd put you at risk. They could use you to get to me. I won't let them do that." His voice was quiet but forceful.

"And what if I'm willing to take that risk, Harry?" Her voice was steady, and that surprised her. It was the closest she'd ever come to stating her feelings for him aloud.

"I didn't want to ask that of you, Ginny."

She swallowed and gathered her courage. "You haven't. I'm offering."

Harry stared at her for the longest time, then he got up. He stood before her and took her hands. "If anything happened to you, I couldn't live with myself. Something is going to happen this year, I can feel it. I have no right to ask this of you, but will you wait for me? I can't make you any promises, but I don't feel right about starting anything until the danger from Voldemort is past."

Ginny shuddered at the name. "But we don't know when that will be. And even if You-know-who were defeated tomorrow, who knows what the future will bring?"

"The future is never sure, but we can wait until it's surer. Six months. This will be resolved one way or another in the next six months."

Ginny chewed her lip. In a way she'd been waiting for him for years now. She'd become very good at it. And in all that time her feelings hadn't gone away. If she'd been able to magically turn them off, she would have long ago. But then suddenly, the answer seemed obvious to her. "No. I won't have you on those terms, because, quite honestly, they're bullocks, and you know it. Now that your feelings are out in the open, I won't accept any less from you. Either we have a relationship, or we don't. But I refuse to spend the next six months in limbo."

And she disentangled her hands and walked away from him, leaving him with a stunned expression on his face. She was surprised at herself, but something within her hadn't been able to accept what he was offering.

But she was even more surprised, when that evening after supper, Harry come over to her, as she was again trying to study in the common room. "We need to talk," he said, sitting down across from her.

Ginny closed the book she'd been pretending to read and put away her parchment. "I'm listening."

"Not here. Is there somewhere private we could go?" 

Ginny looked around the common room. It wasn't entirely deserted, but her brother and Hermione were playing chess by the fire, and Ginny had a feeling she didn't want her brother interrupting whatever Harry had to say to her. "My dormitory is deserted, but I don't think…"

"Not there," Harry interrupted her. She had a feeling she knew what his objections would be. "And not my dormitory, either. I have an idea. Come on."

He held out a hand to her, and she took it without question and followed him through the portrait hole. He led her through the corridors to the Charms classroom. The room was quiet, and the only light came from the nearly full moon shining through the window. Harry lit his wand and proceeded to scatter on the floor a few of the cushions the fourth years used to practise Summoning and Banishing charms. He sat and Ginny sat beside him. She looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he began. Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but he placed a finger against her lips. A current passed through her at his touch. "Hear me out, Ginny. I'm not sorry I kissed you. I'm sorry about the way you had to find out about my feelings for you. You weren't supposed to find out about that, you see."

Ginny couldn't help but interrupt him at this point. "Just when were you planning on telling me then?"

"I wasn't. At least not until Voldemort was defeated." Ginny opened her mouth again, but Harry went on quickly. "Now wait. Don't get all bent out of shape. It wasn't easy to keep this to myself. I'm actually glad you know now. I was driving myself nuts trying to hide this from you."

"Then why did you?"

"I told you earlier. It was to keep you safe, so nothing would happen to you. I couldn't face that."

"And just how long were you planning on keeping this to yourself?"

"Until I wasn't a danger to you anymore."  


"And what if I hadn't waited?"

He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "That was my greatest fear besides someone using you to get to me. That you'd find someone else. But I was willing to risk it if it meant you'd be safe." He paused, and when he continued there was almost a note of panic in his voice. " Why? Is there something you want to tell me?"

Ginny shook her head slowly. "No, Harry, there's never been anyone else. Ever. But…" She looked at him gravely. "I won't sneak around, and I won't hide the fact that we're together. It's all or nothing. Either we're a couple, and everyone knows about us, or we're nothing. Your choice."

"Can't we…"  


"No! I won't do this half way. All or nothing."

"But what if…"

"Nothing's going to happen to me just because I'm your girlfriend. I'll take my chances, but I won't hide."

She held his gaze and waited for his reply. A sickening fear began to creep towards her heart, a fear that she'd gone too far in giving him an ultimatum. But that couldn't be helped. She refused to compromise on this. Either she'd have everything she wanted or nothing at all, but she'd have nothing to regret.

At last Harry seemed to come to a decision. "All right then," he said. For a frightening moment, she thought he was going to get up and leave her, but he was merely shifting position, moving closer. Then he was cradling her face in his hands, kissing her long and deeply…

They stayed in the Charms classroom until Mrs. Norris poked her head around the door frame. Ginny somehow caught the movement out of the corner of her eye, although her mind was very much occupied elsewhere. She broke free of Harry's embrace and pointed out their imminent discovery. Scrambling to their feet, they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower hand in hand, escaping detention for once.

~*~

Ginny must have dozed off at some point, for she jerked awake suddenly to find herself still in the common room. A cold grey light was filtering in through the windows. It was nearly morning. Harry was still asleep with his head in her lap. She traced his features with a shaky finger. In a few hours he would go to face Voldemort, and she knew there was a real possibility she would never see him again. Still she would never regret the last six months.

They'd had, in reality, very little time alone in those six months. Beyond their school work, the castle had been literally under siege for most of the spring, and there had been no Hogsmeade weekends, no Quidditch, nor even any venturing outside. Harry had held the key to ending it from the beginning. He'd had only to deliver himself up to a duel with Voldemort. He'd been prevented from facing the enemy so far by Dumbledore, but the old headmaster had recently met his death in trying to push back the dark forces surrounding the castle. Now there was no one who could prevent Harry from facing Voldemort—not even Ron and Hermione, although they'd tried to talk him out of it. Ginny wouldn't have dreamed of even trying to stand in his way. She understood this was an all or nothing situation for him, and she respected that, even though she was secretly afraid for him. Harry was determined to have the showdown today: it was June 24th, three years to the day since the Dark Lord had been re-embodied. And the challenge had been accepted.

Harry's eyelids fluttered open as she watched. He looked very young without his glasses and his hair standing wildly on end. He sat up, and she handed him his glasses. His face was grim and set. Ginny hardly knew what to say to him. Part of her wanted to stop him, to keep him safe by her side. But she knew that it was his fate to go out alone and do what he must, and so she said nothing.

Instead, he turned to her and said quietly, "I want you to know, whatever happens today, I love you." 

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks at his words; he'd never said them before. "I love you too, Harry, always." She could manage no more than a whisper. They held each other until they heard activity on the stairs and knew the others were coming down. Harry kissed her hard before anyone else appeared in the common room and left through the portrait hole.

Soon Ron and Hermione were standing in front of her, both of them looking very serious. "He's gone," she informed them needlessly. She was sure they could read the truth in her expression. Without another word, they sat down with her to wait.

The common room was crowded with Gryffindors before long. Everyone knew something was going to happen today, and the atmosphere was soon thick with anticipation. And yet there was nothing to do but wait. Exams were over for the year, and the thought of going to class crossed no one's mind; no one even considered breakfast on this momentous day. Time passed slowly. Half-hearted attempts at conversation were made all around Ginny, Ron and Hermione as they sat there, but the talk soon lapsed into silence. It was as if there was a magical shield around them that no one dared breach. 

After a long time, a shout broke the unnatural silence that reigned over the common room. Some younger students were standing at a window which looked out over the grounds. Apparently they could see what was going on down there. Ginny felt her stomach clench. She was torn between wanting to know what was happening and not wanting to face her worst fears. Ron got up and went over to the window. The crowd of other students parted before him; no one dared deny him, as Harry's best friend, the right to watch. 

At last Ginny could stand it no longer and went to stand with her brother. She could hear him muttering under his breath, "I should be down there." Ginny put an arm around him, as she felt Hermione come up behind her and place a comforting hand on both their shoulders. There was no point in wishing they were at Harry's side now. It was as he wanted it. He was facing the enemy alone.

Looking through the window, Ginny could see the two wizards facing each other far below. They were exchanging curses, the light from their respective spells flashing like lightning. So far Harry seemed to be unscathed. He was using his Quidditch reflexes to dodge everything Lord Voldemort launched at him. The Dark Lord had also managed to escape injury thus far. But something struck her as odd in all of this.

"How is it they can duel?" she asked. "I thought their wands wouldn't work against each other." The fact that Harry and Voldemort owned brother wands was common knowledge by now.

"You're right," replied Ron. "How's he doing it?" Ron winced as a curse narrowly missed Harry's face.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" put in Hermione. "He's not using his wand."

"But if he's using another wand, how can he hope to fight? Another wand wouldn't work as well…" 

Ginny was cut off as the students crowded around the windows let out a collective gasp. Harry had somehow managed to acquire a second wand, which he was now holding in his left hand. He used the new wand, which immediately proved to be his own, to cast a spell at Voldemort, and everyone held their breath as they saw the two wands connect… Almost immediately, Harry used his first wand to cast some spell at the Dark Lord. There was a blinding flash of light, and then nothing.

Lord Voldemort had disappeared, but so had Harry.


	2. Chapter Two

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The Price of Victory, Chapter Two

Harry was spiralling through a thick fog. He felt almost as if he had to use his hands to part the clouds before his eyes in order to make any sort of headway. He'd been dreaming, but now full consciousness was beckoning to him, and he reluctantly let the threads of his dream slip through his fingers. 

He opened his eyes to see a pair of brown eyes staring back at him.

"Harry, you're awake," a feminine voice said.

Harry blinked. Something wasn't right. In his dream he'd been playing in the snow with a redhead. But this wasn't the same girl. This was—

"Hermione?"

Hermione beamed at him, as she handed him his glasses, which he put on. She looked as if she might be about to throw herself on him, and he found the idea worrisome. "Yes, Harry, it's me. How are you feeling?" 

Harry had no idea how he was feeling. Another question seemed more pressing at the moment. "Where's Ginny?"

Hermione's smile faded. "Let me get Madam Pomfrey. She needs to know you're awake."

She got up from the chair she'd been seated in and stalked off. It seemed to Harry she was rather put out over something, but he had no idea what that might be. Looking around him, he recognised the familiar surroundings of Hogwarts hospital wing. What had happened to him this time? He wracked his brain trying to remember. Then it came back to him. He'd duelled with Lord Voldemort. He'd used Dumbledore's wand to lure Voldemort into a false sense of security, to make the Dark Lord think this was an actual duel, and then he'd slipped his own wand out of the sleeve of his robe, using it to engage Voldemort's wand so that he could cast his final spell. The last thing he remembered was a blinding flash of light, and then he'd blacked out, only to awaken here. What had become of Voldemort? Had he succeeded in defeating him? Was the castle still under siege? How long had he been here? His head, stuffed full of questions he had no answer for, began to pound.

His thoughts were interrupted as Madam Pomfrey, followed by an anxious-looking Hermione, came over to his bed.

"How are you feeling?" asked the matron.

Harry wanted to roll his eyes but managed to suppress the urge. "My head hurts," he replied sullenly. "Listen, I want to know what happened."  


"All in good time. At the moment I need to examine you to see if there's been any lasting damage."

Harry looked pointedly at Hermione, who had made no move to leave upon hearing that Madam Pomfrey was about to examine him. "Aren't you going to give us some privacy?" he asked her at last.

Hermione sniffed. "Fine," she said, rising to leave. 

Harry watched her go, thinking that she was behaving quite oddly. He thought once again how strange it was that she should be sitting with him without Ron and Ginny. But then it occurred to him that they must be sitting in shifts. Perhaps she'd go and get the others now.

He detached his mind from the proceedings as Madam Pomfrey poked and prodded and asked him questions. He'd been through this often enough in the past. At last the matron declared him none the worse for wear. "You're doing surprisingly well for all you've been through. I can give you a potion for your headache." She turned to go.

"Wait a moment," said Harry, putting out a hand to stop her. "I need to know. What happened to Voldemort?"

Madam Pomfrey looked at him sharply. "Don't you remember?"

"I remember duelling with him. I used two wands, Dumbledore's and my own. And then there was this light, and I don't know what happened after that."

Madam Pomfrey was staring at him now, her face full of concern. "Perhaps you need some more rest. I'll be back with that potion." She walked off, ignoring Harry's pleas to tell him what had happened. When she came back with the potion, she cut off his questions, saying, "no more. I'll not let you get upset. Just take this. I'll send Professor Dumbledore in to see you in the morning."

Harry's jaw dropped. Just what was she talking about? "Professor Dumbledore?! But he's… he's dead…"

Madam Pomfrey simply shook her head. "No more for now. Drink your potion."

Harry scowled at her but realised he'd get no more out of her. He still couldn't understand why she was acting as if Dumbledore were still alive. And why wouldn't she tell him what had happened to Voldemort? He tried to think of a good reason for her actions, but his pounding head refused to co-operate.

He resigned himself to taking the potion, if only to clear his head so he could think straight. Picking up the bottle, he poured it into a goblet. The purple liquid tasted familiar, as he drank it down, and he realised the reason for this too late. It was the same potion he'd been given after the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, one that would make him go back to sleep, without even the hope of returning to the dream he'd been having about Ginny. He lay back down on his bed, drowsy already, as the potion took instantaneous effect.

~*~

When Harry awoke once more it seemed to be morning. At any rate the sun was shining on his blanket. His headache seemed to have cleared up, but he still felt groggy as a result of the potion he had taken. He didn't feel particularly refreshed; in fact, it was almost as if he'd had too much sleep, if that were possible. He wondered again how long he'd been here and what had happened to Voldemort.

Determined to demand answers this time, he put on his glasses, heaved himself into a sitting position and tried to stand. He swayed unsteadily on his legs and immediately sat back down on the bed. He felt uncharacteristically weak. His stomach rumbled, and he was suddenly ravenous. He realised he had no idea how long it had been since he'd last eaten. He vaguely remembered eating supper in the Great Hall, Ginny beside him, Ron and Hermione arriving breathlessly late to the meal, before returning the Gryffindor Common Room and sitting up all night with Ginny. Or at least until he'd fallen asleep. The memory seemed very distant somehow. It was an almost Herculean effort to bring it to mind. He shook his head to clear it, and the image was gone.

"Good morning."

Madam Pomfrey had come in, and her greeting sounded overly cheerful. There was something false about her smile. She was carrying a breakfast tray, Harry noted eagerly. He would eat first and ask questions once he was fortified.

But once the tray was set before him, he saw to his disappointment that it held only a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea and a few slices of buttered toast. He looked up at Madam Pomfrey. "Is that all there is?"  


"I expect you're rather peckish," she replied. "But it wouldn't be a good idea to overload your stomach." Harry gulped down his juice in one go and made to tear into the toast. "I'd take it slowly if I were you. You don't want to bring it all back up again."  


Harry looked at her suspiciously. "What day is it today, anyway? Just how long have I been here?"

Madam Pomfrey must have been in more of a mood to answer questions this morning, for she replied, "The 27th of June. You've been here for three days straight now, and most of that time unconscious."

Harry gaped, his arm in mid-air and a slice of toast halfway to his mouth. That would explain the hunger pangs. It also reminded him of a few other needs that hadn't likely been taken care of for a while, and he wondered if his legs would manage a trip to the loo. He didn't feel up to facing the humiliation of a bedpan, and he fervently hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn't offer him one.

If the matron was entertaining similar thoughts, she didn't have an opportunity to voice them just then. Hermione had come back, and Madam Pomfrey left them alone. "Hello, Harry," Hermione said brightly.

"Morning."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Hungry," he said through a mouthful of toast.

"It's not polite to talk with your mouth full," Hermione reproached.

Harry felt like laughing, but he would have choked at the moment. Swallowing, he said, "since when do you care if I talk with my mouth full?"

Her smile faded, as it had the previous day when he'd mentioned Ginny. The silence stretched out as Harry finished his toast and tea.

"So where are the others?" Harry asked at last, as much to break the silence as anything.

"What others?"  
  
"Well wouldn't Ron and Ginny have wanted to see me?"

Hermione was looking at him with a very singular expression on her face. It was both alarmed and hurt at the same time. Then she suddenly got up and walked off. Harry presumed she was searching for Madam Pomfrey, and this was confirmed when he heard two female voices conversing in an undertone not far away. He strained his ears to listen, hoping to catch some clue as to what was going on. Hermione was behaving very strangely, but it was almost as if he had been saying the wrong things.

"…it's as if he doesn't remember anything that's happened in the past two years." Hermione's voice drifted to him from behind the screen that hid her and Madam Pomfrey from view.

"These things can happen." Madam Pomfrey was attempting to reassure her. "He's suffered a great shock. The blast of energy he withstood would have killed a good many wizards. He's lucky to be alive, that one. If all he's got out of this is a bout of amnesia, then we're all very fortunate."

Blast of energy? That must have been the light Harry had seen when fighting Voldemort. But amnesia? How could he be suffering from amnesia? He remembered who he was: he was Harry Potter, and he was in his seventh yeah at Hogwarts. Hermione was one of his best friends, and she was in a serious relationship with his other best friend, Ron. He expected they'd get married at some point in the future. And he was in love with Ginny, Ron's sister. He remembered it all perfectly well.

"How long will his amnesia last?" Hermione was asking.

"I can't answer that. Sometimes it's only for a day or so, and sometimes it never goes away."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Hermione's voice was rising and it had a note of desperation in it.

"You might possibly trigger his memory with something or another, but it's hard to say what would do it. Sometimes a strong emotion is enough, and other times it's something small and insignificant, or so it seems, an odour, a taste. You can never tell with these cases. Sometimes, just time and rest are enough. We'll have to wait and see."

Hermione was silent, and Harry could almost picture the look on her face. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't be pleased with this answer. She'd want something concrete, something she could act on, something in the…

"I'm going to see what I can find out in the library."

He heard footsteps and knew she'd gone off to see what she could learn in Madam Pince's realm.

Harry lay back and thought about what he'd just overheard. Then another thought struck him, a horrifying one. He'd been out for three days, and Hermione had had an odd reaction each time he brought up Ron or Ginny. What had happened after his duel with Voldemort, he wondered once again. Had there been some sort of battle between the Death Eaters and Hogwarts professors? Had students been implicated? Knowing Ron, he wouldn't have sat back and watched something like that. It had not sat well with him to let Harry face Voldemort alone. If there'd been any sort of action, Ron would have been in the thick of things. He couldn't have been hurt, either, because he would have been here in the hospital wing with Harry. In fact, if there'd been any sort of battle, he would have expected to see all kinds of casualties in the other beds, but there were none. He was alone in the infirmary. Could there have been deaths? It didn't bear thinking about. But then what had Hermione been on about when she mentioned his forgetting the last two years?

But something dodgy was definitely going on here. Madam Pince was acting strangely. Every time he'd wanted information from her, she'd either distracted him or refused to answer his questions. In fact he'd asked her directly what had happened to Voldemort, and she'd given him a sleeping potion instead of answers. He found her behaviour quite suspicious. Perhaps he wasn't at Hogwarts any longer. Perhaps he'd been taken by the enemy, and this was all an elaborate ruse. He'd only seen Hermione and Madam Pomfrey, and they both seemed to want to prevent him from seeing anyone else. They could easily be Death Eaters taking Polyjuice potion. Or they could be under a spell. That would explain why Hermione didn't seem quite herself. But yet, why would they try to convince him he had amnesia, in that case? His head threatened to begin pounding again, as he attempted to answer too many questions based on too little information, and he found himself wishing Ginny were there to massage his temples. She'd become quite adept at easing his aching head in the last six months.

Madam Pomfrey was back, standing over his bed with a bedpan in her hand. Harry stared at her obstinately, arms folded. He decided he was going to defy her now until he'd got some information out of her. On top of that, there was no way he was going to use a bedpan. 

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not using that." He shoved his blanket aside and tried to stand. His legs refused once more to support him, but he held on to the back of the chair that stood by his bed with determination. 

"You're in no condition to be walking around on your own," Madam Pomfrey pointed out.

"Well, then help me out here. Can't you walk me over to the toilet?"

"And what are you going to do once you get there?"

"I'll manage," he grated, looking her directly in the eye until she relented.

In the end he managed just fine, but the weakness in his legs was a bit worrisome. He wondered if perhaps there'd been something in the potion he'd been given to cause this. He didn't have time to mull over his doubts yet another time, however. Madam Pomfrey was helping him back to his bed, when someone else entered the hospital wing, and this time it wasn't Hermione. It wasn't even Dumbledore. Indeed, it was the last person Harry would have expected to visit him in the hospital wing, but this did little to allay Harry's suspicions.

Draco Malfoy was standing there, staring at him, as if he hadn't ever expected to see him alive again. Harry reached towards his bedside table, fumbling for his wand. It wasn't there. This discovery did even less for Harry's doubts.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

Malfoy looked rather surprised at the challenge in Harry's tone. "I've come to see you, Harry," he said quietly. He seemed to have lost both his drawl and his habitual sneer.

Harry? Since when were he and Malfoy on a first name basis? "Why did you want to see me? Come to gloat?"

"Gloat?" he sounded confused. "What have I got to gloat over? I heard you were awake, and I've just come by to see how you were getting on."

"And you expect me to believe that? Come on, I wasn't born yesterday, you know. Why are you really here? Come to finish me off so you can leave the Youth League and become a full-fledged Death Eater?"

Draco was completely taken aback by this, but he tried again. "Look, Hermione said you'd woken up a bit funny. It looks as if she was right. I wanted to come see for myself. There's no call for comments like that, though."

"And why not? It's the truth isn't it? You've got Hermione under some sort of spell, someone has Polyjuiced herself as Pomfrey, and now you're here to complete your initiation. Bet you can't wait to receive the Dark Mark. That is, if you don't already have it." Harry made a grab for Draco's left arm, but Malfoy was too fast for him. "What's wrong? Embarrassed about your affiliation?"

"You've done worse than go a bit funny in the head. You're barking mad."

"I'm beginning to think I'm the only sane person here. But before you go about your business, why not do the job right and tell me what's going on? Aren't you supposed to make a nice speech and explain your evil designs to me before you get on with it?"

But Draco was backing away. "Think I'll come back another time when you've had a chance to calm down, or a cheering charm, or maybe the Draught of Living Death."

Malfoy made his escape then. "I always knew he was a coward," Harry muttered after his retreating back. Then he called for Madam Pomfrey and demanded to know where his wand was.

"I've got it safe and sound in my office," replied the matron. "Nothing has happened to it."

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to have it back."

"I think that's hardly necessary. You're in here to recover. I doubt very much anyone's going to come in here and attack you."

Harry wasn't so sure about this last statement. "I'd feel better if I could have it, if you don't mind. I promise not to hex anyone without provocation."  


Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Oh, all right then." And she stalked off towards her office muttering something about uncooperative patients under her breath. She came back presently and handed Harry his wand. Harry couldn't believe that she'd given into his request so quickly. This added yet another confusing detail into the mix. If Madam Pomfrey had been a Polyjuiced Death Eater, surely he would never have been given his wand—and this _was_ definitely his own wand; the familiar warmth of it under his fingers confirmed that much.

Harry set his wand aside and looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Now if you don't mind, can you please tell me what has been going on? Something's not right in all of this, and I demand to know what it is."

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. I've been instructed not to."

"I don't believe this! It's completely stupid! Why can't you tell me a simple thing like what's happened to Voldemort? Or explain that amnesia business I overheard you and Hermione talking about? Just tell me what's going on!" 

Harry considered picking his wand back up again, hoping it would make him more persuasive, but in the event it wasn't necessary. 

"In good time, all your questions will be answered, Harry."  


A new voice intruded on their conversation. It was a familiar voice to Harry, one he'd never thought to hear again, but the thought wasn't comforting to him at the moment. Instead he found it quite alarming. He was certain there was something very dodgy indeed going on here. For the person who had spoken was Albus Dumbledore, and that was an impossibility, because Harry knew without a doubt that Albus Dumbledore was dead.


	3. Chapter Three

****

The Price of Victory, chapter 3

"Would you mind leaving us alone, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore, as he sat down beside Harry's bed. Madam Pomfrey retreated behind the privacy screen, her footsteps fading in the direction of her office.

Harry stared at the old headmaster for a moment, not quite sure what to say. He wondered if he himself could be dead. But that would mean there was a good chance Madam Pomfrey, Hermione and Malfoy were also dead. Something didn't quite add up there. Finally, Harry opened his mouth and dared voice his doubts. "You… you're… you're supposed to be dead," he stammered. "I saw your body. But now you look so _alive_."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Yes, Harry, I'm afraid the rumours about my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Might I ask you how you came to see my dead body?"

"Well, you went out with some other professors to try to push back the Dark Lord's forces, and you were killed. I…"

But Dumbledore raised a hand and cut Harry off. "Dark Lord's forces? Here at Hogwarts? I think you'd better begin further back than that. When did the enemy come to Hogwarts?"

"It was in early April," Harry began. And he went on to describe how the Dark Lord's army had besieged the castle and how Dumbledore had prepared a sortie in mid-June which had ultimately led to his death. "I had wanted to join the fight," Harry concluded, "but you wouldn't allow it. I sneaked out under the Invisibility Cloak after you'd gone out with the others. I'd made it as far as the Entrance Hall when your body was brought in."

Dumbledore had been watching Harry intently throughout his story. If any of this information had been unknown to him, his manner belied that fact. "And then what happened?" he asked.

"The siege continued. It looked as if it might go on all summer. I figured Voldemort wanted me, and so I challenged him to a duel. I knew I couldn't use my own wand against him and still fight properly, so in the hours before the duel, I retrieved your wand from your office." He felt his face begin to heat at this admission. "I'd heard where it was going to be kept the day they brought your body in. I overheard Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall discussing it. And so I faced Voldemort using your wand and lulled him into a false sense of security, before taking my own wand which I'd hidden in my sleeve and using it to occupy him while I cast the final spell with your wand."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair, looking at Harry speculatively. "What spell did you use?"

"_Eicio in tenebras_," Harry mumbled. "Hermione found it in some really old book in the Restricted Section."

"I see. And then?"  


"There was this light. And I woke up here. I don't know what happened to Voldemort."

Dumbledore sat back and pondered. At last he said, "I cannot say for certain, but it seems to me a great deal of magical energy was released. Enough to propel you, and perhaps Lord Voldemort as well, into another dimension."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean by that? Have I defeated Voldemort?"

"No, you haven't. Not in this reality, at least. Everything you have just told me hasn't happened."

"What?" Harry was angry now. "How is that possible? It all happened the way I said, I know it has!"

"Calm down, my boy, or you'll have Poppy back here, and we'll never get this resolved." It seemed to Harry that Dumbledore winked at this. "I believe what you say. What you've just told me happened to _you_. But none of that has happened to_ me_. As you can see, I'm quite alive and well. Neither has the castle been under siege by Death Eaters these past months."

"So you're saying I never duelled Lord Voldemort in this reality?" asked Harry trying to get his brain to accept what Dumbledore was saying to him.

"No. Not recently in any case." Harry figured Dumbledore was referring to the events which had immediately followed the Triwizard Tournament.

"Then how did I come to be in the hospital wing?"

"Now that is a curious matter. You disappeared, you see. You were believed captured by the enemy. But three days ago, you were found lying unconscious near the base of Gryffindor Tower. We've been waiting for you to wake up so you could tell us where you'd been. Miss Granger has been most worried."

Harry wondered why he found this last bit of information so upsetting. The toast he'd eaten churned unpleasantly in his stomach. He did his best to ignore the feeling as his mind tried frantically to make sense of the situation.

"So where I came from, Hogwarts was besieged, you're dead, and Voldemort may have been defeated. But here, none of that's happened."

Dumbledore smiled benevolently. "As near as I can make it, yes."

Something else niggled at the back of Harry's mind. "But then what happened to me? I mean the other me. I must have replaced him. Where did he go?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Harry. He may still exist in this reality, and he may still be in the hands of those who captured him. If that is the case, I hope he stays where he is for now. It would be very dangerous for the two of you to meet. Do you understand why, Harry?" Harry nodded. He remembered the Time Turner incident in his third year. "Or he may be dead by now, and you've replaced him. The spell you used on Voldemort is very ancient, and all its consequences may never be known."

Harry mulled all this over for a while until another matter came to his mind. "What about the others? I mean Ron and Ginny. Where are they? So far I've only seen Hermione and Malfoy."

Dumbledore eyed him with a curious expression. "Why are you asking after the Weasleys in particular?"

"Well, Ron's my best friend, and Ginny, she's my… my girlfriend," he finished, reddening. 

Dumbledore's facial expression did not change. "I see," he replied. "I think you'll find that circumstances are not quite the same here." Harry definitely did not like the sound of that, but the headmaster was already rising to leave. "I expect you'll be allowed to return to your dormitory today."

That reminded Harry of yet another problem. He'd had to ask for help to go to the loo; how was he expected to walk all the way back to Gryffindor Tower? He voiced these doubts aloud.

Dumbledore paused. "I imagine your weakness is a result of that last spell you cast. It took a lot out of you. Plus you've been in no condition to eat or drink for three days. Your strength should come back in time, but Poppy should be able to give you a potion which will help you feel better until then. I'll have a word with her about it. Goodbye, Harry."

~*~

Late that afternoon, Harry was indeed released from the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had given him a fortifying draught, and he was feeling much steadier on his feet, if not completely up to snuff. He noticed something strange, however, as he changed out of the pyjamas he'd been wearing to don school robes. There was no Gryffindor crest on the robes; there was no house crest at all. He tried to recall to his mind what Hermione and Malfoy had been wearing when they'd come to visit him, but he could not remember anything strange about their attire. Perhaps he'd simply not noticed in his bewilderment over other matters. He considered asking Madam Pomfrey about it for a moment, but she seemed busy with other things. He'd find out soon enough once he was back in the Gryffindor common room. He hoped to see Ginny there.

With that thought in mind, he set off down the familiar corridors towards the seventh floor. The journey took a bit more time than it might have, owing to Harry's weakened condition, but soon enough he found himself in the passage that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady. He paused for a moment, wondering what he would do about the password. If this was, as Dumbledore said, another reality, chances were good that Harry would not know the password. He resigned himself to trying all the ones he could remember from the past and hoping for the best. If this didn't get him anywhere, he could always take a page from Neville Longbottom's book and wait for someone who did know the password to come along.

But when he reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, he saw to his astonishment that the Fat Lady was not in her place. In fact, there was no portrait guarding the entrance. There was simply a round hole in the wall left open for anyone to climb freely in and out. He entered the common room more puzzled than ever over the new reality in which he found himself.

At first glance the common room was deserted, and Harry could understand why. It was the end of summer term, exams were over with, and the weather was fair. He'd have been outside with his friends in a minute if he hadn't just spent the last three days in the hospital wing. He'd expended a good deal of energy just to get up here, though, and he didn't think he could face the trek back down to the grounds. No, he'd go up to his dormitory and think about what Dumbledore had said.

As he crossed the common room, he suddenly found his path blocked. Hermione was standing in front of him looking determined. He recognised that expression. It was the look she often got in class when she'd just figured out the solution to a difficult problem. And now she was casting that look in his direction, and he didn't like it. "Hermione, do you mind getting out of my way?" he said a bit peevishly.

She didn't reply, at least not verbally. Instead, she launched herself at him. Harry turned his face away just in time to avoid being snogged by one of his best friends. 

"Hermione! Gerroff!" 

He shuddered involuntarily, as he somehow found the energy to push her away. It must have been adrenaline, for his heart was now pounding. Hermione staggered backwards and landed in an armchair, her look of determination replaced by one of hurt. It struck him suddenly that she somehow looked younger.

"What the hell are you on about?" Harry demanded, unmoved by her expression. 

"I was just trying to remind you," she replied, her lower lip quivering.

"Remind me of _what_?" Harry was outraged now. He swiped at the spot on his cheek where her lips had landed. 

"I… I thought if you remembered, you'd be cured of your amnesia."

"What's to remind me of? We've always been platonic friends! God, snogging you would be like snogging my mother! And besides, I haven't got amnesia."

"You must have," she replied through the tears that were starting to run down her cheeks. "How could you have forgotten last summer?"

"What about last summer? We were both at the Burrow. Last I noticed, you and Ron…"

She stood and slapped him across the face at that. "Don't you ever, _ever_…" But she couldn't finish her sentence. She turned and ran up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

Harry stood there, stunned for the moment. He absently ran his hand over his cheek where she'd slapped him. It was stinging, and he was sure the imprint of her hand could be easily seen. Why was everyone behaving so strangely? Were he and Hermione… together in this place? He shuddered again, feeling quite queasy at the idea. He decided the best thing now would be for him to lie down for a while, and with that in mind, he headed once more for the boys' staircase.

Harry trudged up the stairs to his dormitory, still rattled by Hermione's actions. It had never occurred to him to think of her as a potential girlfriend, not even when she'd kissed his cheek at the end of fourth year. He'd always viewed that as a sisterly sort of action and nothing more. He couldn't imagine himself and Hermione as anything more to each other than friends.

When he arrived at the top of the stairs and entered his dormitory, he had another nasty shock. Draco Malfoy was sitting on _his _bed rather occupied with a girl whose face Harry couldn't see at the moment. But he recognised the distinctive red hair.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing with my girlfriend, Malfoy?" Harry shouted, drawing his wand.

The couple broke apart, and Harry thought he saw Ginny redden out of the corner of his eye: he was watching Malfoy carefully. "_Your_ girlfriend?" Malfoy replied, standing and drawing his own wand. "Since when is she your girlfriend? Look, I know you've gone funny in the head and all, but I think you ought to recognise a snog session when you see one. I think you may even recall participating in one or two yourself if you think about it."

Harry was ready to curse Malfoy then and there. He raised his wand and opened his mouth, but Ginny stepped between the two boys. Harry met her gaze and was badly shaken by what he saw there. He knew immediately that this wasn't his Ginny. Her eyes lacked their customary warmth. In fact, she was looking at him now with a great deal of distaste. Harry suddenly felt a wave if weakness spill over him like a bucket of ice water, as the rush of adrenaline he'd experienced earlier wore off. He lowered his wand and murmured, "sorry."

Ginny turned to Draco, and Harry thought he saw a look of understanding pass between them. His stomach churned once more at the idea. "I think I'll leave the two of you alone to work this out, shall I?" said Ginny before she left the room, throwing a final glare in Harry's direction as she passed.

Draco sat down on Harry's bed again. "Listen, mate, I know you've been through a lot, but you've got to find a way to break out of this amnesia thing."

Mate? Why was he acting as if they were old friends? And what was he even doing up here? "Get off my bed," Harry said petulantly.

"This _is _my bed. Yours is over there." He indicated the bed where Ron was supposed to sleep.

"No, that's Ron's bed. You're not even supposed to be here. Go back to your dungeon."

Something at the back of Harry's brain told him he was likely fighting a losing battle in arguing with Malfoy—he remembered what Dumbledore had said about different circumstances—but at the moment he wasn't ready to accept these particular circumstances.

Malfoy's jaw was set, and his cheeks seemed to be going pink, but when he spoke he attempted to keep his tone reasonable. "Okay, I realise you've lost your memory, so I'm going to explain this to you. Dumbledore abolished the house system two years ago.

Harry noticed now that Malfoy had no Slytherin crest on his robes. Now that he thought about it, Harry realised that neither Hermione nor Ginny had had a house crest on their robes, either.

"Dumbledore thought the house system led to prejudice and inter-house rivalry," Malfoy continued. "He reckoned we'd all learn to get along better and present a united front against the Dark Lord's forces if he got rid of it. And part of that included re-shuffling the sleeping arrangements."

Harry didn't like to admit it, but what Malfoy was saying made sense. "So you sleep up here now?" he asked. Malfoy nodded. "Who else is up here with us?"

"You and Longbottom stayed put. Ernie MacMillan and Terry Boot are in with us."

Harry was tempted to ask what had become of Malfoy's old cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, but he thought better of it. "And Ron? What happened to him?"

Malfoy was staring at him, astonished. "You really don't remember, do you? Weasley's in the old Hufflepuff dormitory now." He seemed to find this bit of information funny. "But why you should be concerned for him is beyond me."

"What do you mean by that? Ron's my best friend."

"Ex-best friend," Malfoy corrected.

"What are you on about?"

"End of last year, Weasley was responsible for you getting captured by the Dark Lord."

"You're lying! Ron would never betray me."

"He did. Seems to me he was jealous of your girlfriend and wanted to get rid of you."

Harry had a sinking feeling he knew who the girl involved was, but that was another fact of this new life he was unwilling to accept yet. "And I suppose you and I are regular old mates now," he said sarcastically.

"We get on a lot better than we used to. Just stay away from my girlfriend. That's what I don't understand in all this. You and Ginny were never together. Why would you think that you were?"

Harry was at a loss now. Malfoy was under the impression that he, Harry, was suffering from amnesia. Would he be believed if he told Malfoy the truth? Or would this be taken as a sign of madness? He decided not to say anything for the time being and let Malfoy believe what he would. "I dunno. I suppose I remembered having a girlfriend but not who it was."

"Your girlfriend's Hermione. Didn't you see her downstairs? She was waiting for you."

Harry's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch, and he had to sit down. He went over to sit on his (_Ron's_, his brain screamed) bed. "Yeah, I saw her. It's just that I can't recall ever… ever, well, doing anything like that with her."

Malfoy was shaking his head incredulously. "You've got it bad then, mate, if you don't remember my mother's wedding. Of course, you were pretty drunk at the time."

Harry was confused again. "Your mother's wedding? What happened to your father?"

Malfoy sighed. "Long story." Harry gave him a pleading look. It might be best to know the worst, after all. "Oh, all right." Malfoy sounded exasperated. "Father finally got caught. Weasley's dad found something on him. Dunno how, but he somehow learned of the secret room under the drawing room. So Father got hauled in by the Ministry of Magic, and they gave him Veritaserum. Implicated himself in a lot of lovely Death Eater schemes. Named names, too, but the Aurors'll have to catch those he named. Said enough to earn himself a nice kiss from the Dementors." Malfoy didn't sound at all sorry about any of this.

"All this left Mother in a spot of trouble," Malfoy continued. "A lot of Father's money was given out to his victims and their families in compensation, and Mother always did have refined taste. She went into debt. She had to marry someone with money to pay it off, and that's what she did."

Harry steeled himself. "So at the wedding…" he prompted.

"At the dinner afterwards, you and Hermione got quite drunk and disappeared for a good long time."

"Are you insinuating…"

"I'm not insinuating anything. You as good as told me that you and Hermione…"

Harry cut him off. He felt decidedly ill now and didn't want to risk bringing up the nourishment he'd managed to take in. He needed his strength. "All right, I get the picture."

Malfoy was smirking. "At any rate, I'd think a man would remember his first time."

Harry swallowed hard. He had no way of knowing one way or the other. He desperately wanted to change the subject. "So who did your mother marry?"

"Peter Pettigrew."

Harry never knew if the information overload had caught up with him or if it was the result of three days without food or water, but this last was too much. He fainted.


	4. Chapter Four

****

The Price of Victory Chapter Four

It didn't take Harry very long to come to the conclusion that he did not like this new reality at all. Once Malfoy had revived him using the water from the pitcher by the window, he'd told Harry more. Harry had learned that Peter Pettigrew had not betrayed his parents; that had been Sirius Black, who had escaped from Azkaban was now at Voldemort's side. This information had come out when Harry had had the presence of mind to ask how he'd come to be invited at the wedding in the first place, and Malfoy had informed him that Pettigrew was his godfather. That, taken together with everything else, made him determined to go back to where he'd come from. The question now was how to go about it, and for that he'd need Hermione. Unfortunately, Hermione was rather put out with him at the moment and refused to speak to him.

Another matter Harry found troubling was the fact that summer term was almost over. In his other life, he'd been planning to return to the Burrow to spend the summer with the Weasleys, while he decided what he was going to do with his life. Malfoy's revelations about Ron meant that those plans would be out of the question here. Harry had no intention of ever returning to the Dursleys' now that he was of age—he'd left their house on his seventeenth birthday last year. And he most definitely refused to spend the holiday with Malfoy and Pettigrew. He wondered what his plans had been in this life. He supposed Hermione would know, but he couldn't exactly ask her now. 

He realised that he really should explain to Hermione what had happened. If he could make her see that he really wasn't the same Harry with whom she'd been involved, perhaps she'd understand his actions and forgive him. But every time he'd approached her, she'd stomped off in a huff. Time was running short, and while Harry felt stronger as time passed, he was beginning to think he'd be on his own in resolving the situation.

And he had tried to find a solution on his own. He'd briefly considered searching out Voldemort and using the same spell to defeat him (if indeed the spell had defeated him). The problem with this plan was, he couldn't be sure that he'd end up back where he was supposed to be. He shuddered at the idea of going somewhere even worse: a world where he and Malfoy were a couple, for example. He wracked his brains but couldn't come up with anything better. 

No, he needed Hermione's help with this or, better yet, Hermione and Ron. Together the three of them had formed a formidable team. The idea that they couldn't work together in this world saddened him. Ron was someone else he wanted to seek out and speak to. So far he'd only caught a glimpse of him at meals. He'd had the definite impression that Ron was going out of his way to avoid to avoid him. Harry supposed he couldn't blame Ron for that if what Malfoy had told him was true. Harry wondered if there wasn't more to the story than met the eye. He still couldn't imagine Ron betraying him to the enemy, ever.

Harry got up from the armchair he'd been occupying, as he mulled everything over for what seemed the hundredth time. He'd formed no new conclusions, and he was feeling restless. A walk outside was what he really needed. He scowled, as he noticed that Malfoy and Ginny had taken up residence on one of the sofas. He'd been so preoccupied, he hadn't noticed them come in. They were certainly in no position to pay him any heed at the moment. That was another good reason to go outside. He couldn't stand seeing Malfoy with his girlfriend. He missed _his_ Ginny and longed to get back to her. Each time he saw her with Malfoy only served as a cruel reminder that all was not right here.

"Oi! Get a room!" he called to them irritably, as he passed.

"Good idea, Potter," laughed Malfoy. Harry heard Ginny give a throaty giggle. He definitely hadn't meant to put _that_ idea into their heads.

Harry went out onto the grounds and spied Hermione almost immediately. She was sitting by herself near the lake, apparently absorbed in a book. Harry decided to give it one more go. He had nothing to lose now. The leaving feast was tonight; tomorrow they'd all be on the train.

"Hello, Hermione," he said when he'd reached her. 

She looked up at him stonily. Then she stood abruptly and made to walk off once more. Harry grabbed her arm.

"Wait. We need to talk. This is important."

"There's nothing to say," she replied, tugging at her arm. "You've made your feelings quite clear."

"Hermione, you've got to listen. You don't know everything that's been going on. I don't have amnesia."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" She tugged harder at her arm.

"Will you please hear me out? It's going to sound a bit far-fetched, but you can go verify everything I tell you with Dumbledore."

This seemed to placate her somewhat. She relaxed, Harry released her, and she sat back down. Harry then told her how Dumbledore had come to see him in the hospital wing and explained the conclusions he'd drawn. "So you see," he concluded, "I'm not the same Harry, and for me you're not the same Hermione. Nothing's right about this place for me. I need to get back, and maybe once I've gone, you'll find out what happened to the Harry who belongs here. But I'll need your help to do it. Ron's, too, if I can get it."

At the mention of Ron, Hermione blanched. Harry had avoided mentioning him up until now. "You'll never get it," she said. "Do you know what he did to you?"

"Malfoy said he betrayed me over you. I don't believe it. The Ron I know would never do any such thing. Of course, where I come from, you're with him, not me." Harry knew he was treading on thin ice now, but it was better that she knew the whole truth. He hadn't mentioned Ginny yet, but he'd have to bring her into this eventually, as well.

Hermione was laughing harshly, but something about the sound rang false in Harry's ears. "Me and Ron?" she said at last, sounding incredulous. "I think I was ready to believe your story up until now, but now I'm sure you've just gone mad." But there was something about her tone of voice that indicated to Harry she was trying to convince herself more than anything else.

"Go ask Dumbledore, then. He'll tell you everything I say is true."

She looked at him for a long moment. "All right. Let's just say for argument's sake that I believe you. I will go check this out with Professor Dumbledore later, mind you. But me and Ron? Never! We'd fight all the time."

"You don't," Harry informed her. "Not really. Sometimes I get the impression that you like to put on a show for each other, but I can't remember the last time you two had a serious disagreement."

Hermione was biting her lip. It was obvious she didn't much like what he was saying to her. "In your world, perhaps. Things are different here."

"Things are wrong here!" said Harry vehemently. "They're not as they're supposed to be. You and Ron are supposed to be my best friends. There's nothing we wouldn't do for each other. Well, almost nothing. And I know there has to be more to the betrayal story than what Malfoy told me. Can you tell me what you know about that?"

Hermione looked away from him, and Harry knew in that moment he was right, that there was more to it than met the eye. She seemed to be hiding something.

"Come on, Hermione. Whatever it is, you can tell me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm Harry your friend, not your boyfriend. I'm not going to be jealous of anything between you and Ron, I promise."

He heard her sigh, and Harry knew he'd struck in the gold. "I always knew he liked me, not as a friend, but he _liked_ me. But I also reckoned that he was too immature to ever express it properly. He couldn't even ask me to the Yule Ball fourth year. And so I figured it could never work out between us, that we'd always argue. My parents never argued, and they'd always seemed happy enough." She stopped here and swallowed hard. Harry noticed she was speaking in the past tense and waited for her to continue. She stared at the sky and blinked a few times. "They separated in the middle of last year. It came as a bolt out of the blue for me. And, well, you helped me through it--I didn't think Ron would understand--and besides, we were all split up by then." Harry realised she was referring to the abolishment of the houses. "So out of that, I suppose, we developed feelings for each other, and Ron didn't take that well."

"He still loved you."

Hermione looked at him, her expression indicating she did not want to believe him. "Liked me," she corrected.

"No, he loved you. Bet he still does."

"Please don't tell me that."

"Why not? It's the truth."

"Where you come from, maybe."

Harry had to concede that point. He'd not seen enough of Ron in this world to be able to ascertain his feelings. "All right, so then he betrayed me, because he was jealous, just as Malfoy said."

Hermione was nodding. "That's pretty much it." Her cheeks were going pink. "Towards the end of last year, it was pretty much assumed that you and I were together. Ron wasn't happy about it, of course. God, this is such a mess!" 

She paused, and Harry had the feeling she was about to confess something she'd never confided to anyone else. He saw her swallow and fix her gaze on the ground a few feet in front of her.

"This all happened before we actually got together," she informed him.

"As far as I'm concerned, we've never been together."

She looked at him rather peevishly for a moment before returning her eyes to the spot she'd been staring at. "All right, you've made that clear. Everyone thought we were together before we actually were, you know. When the houses were abolished, it broke up the three of us. You and I naturally spent more time together, and people just assumed… Well, anyway, one evening you were at Quidditch practise, and Ron came and found me in the library. He told me he wanted to talk to me privately, so we went up to the third-floor corridor. You know, where Fluffy was first year." She paused.

"That's your spot," Harry interjected into the silence.

"What do you mean?"

"Where I'm from, that's where you and Ron go to snog."

"Oh." Hermione was even pinker in the face now. She still didn't seem to be able to look at him. "Well, when we got up there, Ron told me he didn't care what was going on between you and me. I tried to tell him nothing was going on, because at that point nothing was, but he wouldn't listen. He never listens!" This was said with more vehemence than she'd meant to let on, Harry was sure. "Then he said he was in love with me," she continued slowly. Harry wanted badly to tell her he'd told her so at this point, but he didn't want to interrupt her. "I told him that was ridiculous. It would never work out. We'd fight constantly. And he went on to prove me right, because he started arguing immediately. And well, then we had one of our typical arguments."

Harry had the distinct feeling she wasn't telling him everything. Her face was beet red, and she still couldn't look at him. "Hermione, I think there's more to it than that, or there'd be nothing to tell."

She let out a shuddering sigh and bit her lip. "Yes, there's more," she said in a whisper. Harry had to strain his ears to hear her. "I don't know how it happened. One minute we were shouting at each other, and the next we were snogging." She looked up at him at last, and Harry could tell she'd been feeling guilty about this. He wanted to laugh, but he restrained himself. "That's not so bad, is it?" he asked.

"That much wouldn't be so bad if it had ended there…" she looked away again.

Part of him couldn't believe they were actually discussing this, but Hermione seemed determined to unburden herself fully now that she'd started. "Are you saying you and Ron…"

She cut him off. "NO! It didn't go that far, although it might have. I couldn't do it. I was scared. It was all so overwhelming. With you I always felt, I dunno, comfortable and calm, but this was huge, and it was frightening. Unfortunately, Ron misinterpreted things. He took it as confirmation that you and I were a couple. He accused me of lying to him when I tried to deny it. It got very ugly and only served to reinforce to me that he and I wouldn't work out. I think he was jealous of you from that point. Before he'd only suspected, but now he had it in his head that you and I were together. He thought he had proof."

"And so he betrayed me over you?"

Hermione nodded. "I think so."

Harry shook his head. "I still can't bring myself to believe it. There's got to be more to it than that."

"No one but Ron really knows what happened when he was taken by You-Know-Who not long after that."

"And I don't suppose he's likely to want to tell me about it."

Hermione shook her head. "He's kept to himself all this year. Ever since he was released, really."

"Damn. And tonight's the leaving feast. There's no time to get through to him." This brought another problem to Harry's mind. "Hermione, what were my plans for the summer? Where I came from I was supposed to go to the Burrow, and that's out of the question now. I can't go back to my relatives'."

Hermione looked very concerned. "But you have to. You-Know-Who's still powerful. You need your relatives' protection.

Harry was adamant. "No. I won't go back. Voldemort may not be defeated in my world either, but I never had any intention of going back there. I'm of age now. I can do as I like."

"There's always your godfather."

"That's just as bad. And I'm not spending the summer with Malfoy. I see too much of him as it is."

"We had talked about you coming to my house for part of the summer, but that was if You-Know-Who is defeated, and he isn't."

"We'll find a way to do it then, or at least to set things right. But I need your help. Really I need you and Ron." And Ginny, he added in his thoughts, but he didn't dare voice that aloud yet.

"You won't get his help."

"I still may if I had time. If I come to your house, perhaps we can work on a solution to the Ron problem. How far are you from the Burrow, anyway?" 

"Not very close. Harry, I don't know about this…"

"Do you have any brighter ideas?"

"No."

"What are your parents going to say about me turning up?"

"My _parents_ aren't going to say anything. We'd only have to convince my mother."

Harry cringed inwardly. He'd forgotten what she'd said about her parents separating. "Sorry," he mumbled. "So what will your mum have to say about it?"

"I think I can talk her into it. But it'll be dangerous. As a Muggle-born witch, I'm already a target. If You-Know-Who finds out you're there, too…"

Harry laughed harshly. "If Voldemort turns up, I know how to deal with him. Come on. I can show you the spell. You found it, actually."

Hermione brightened. "What book was it in?" she asked, her interest showing on her face.

"Erm, I don't remember now. It was in the Restricted Section, though. I think I can find it."

As seventh year students, they no longer needed to worry about having a signed note from a teacher to access the Restricted Section in the library. Madam Pince gave them a curious look when they came in, however. The place was deserted. The other students were all occupied with packing their trunks or enjoying the day. There was no reason for anyone to be in the library this late in the term. The librarian, however, withheld any comment. Perhaps since this was because Hermione was with him. 

Harry headed straight for the rope which cordoned off the Restricted Section and stepped over it. He was fairly sure he remembered what the book had looked like, even though he'd forgotten its title. He went to a likely-looking stack and began to scan titles, but nothing seemed to ring a bell.

"What are we looking for?" Hermione asked quietly beside him.

"Really thick book, red cover I think."

"Yes, but is it a general spell book, a history book, what?"

Harry stopped to think. "Bugger. I don't remember."

"Don't swear, Harry."

Harry looked at her askance, torn between bursting out laughing (since he'd sworn in front of her before, and she'd let it pass) and feeling odd over what she'd just said to him. She was supposed to say that to Ron, not to him. If she were about to say any more to him, she quickly shut her mouth and began scanning the books of the opposite stack.

A few hours later, they'd looked at all the red-bound books in the Restricted Section, but none of them had seemed familiar to Harry. To be certain they hadn't missed anything, they'd even looked up the incantation but hadn't found it anywhere. It was growing dark, and Madam Pince was sending significant looks in their direction. Hermione looked at her watch. "It's almost time to go to the feast," she said in a disappointed tone.

"Why can't I find that bloody book?" Harry asked in frustration. 

He looked at Hermione, almost daring her to admonish his language, but she merely pursed her lips for a moment. "Maybe it doesn't exist here." At some point she must have decided to take him at his word. The time had long since past for her to seek out Dumbledore. "Maybe you're not supposed to defeat You-Know-Who that way in this world."

"Well, I still can. It's not as if I don't remember how to do it."

Hermione considered for a moment. "Are you sure you want to risk it again? Who knows where you'll end up if you do."

"I've already thought of that," Harry replied glumly. "I'm not sure I do want to take the chance, but if I've got no choice in the matter, if it's a question of life and death, I'll use it. But if there's another way of defeating Voldemort, I don't know about it."

"You don't even know that the spell defeated him." 

Harry couldn't argue with this observation. Madam Pince cleared her throat quite loudly, and they took the hint and left the library. They headed straight for the Entrance Hall, where a long queue had formed. Students were waiting for the doors of the Great Hall to open to admit them to the leaving feast. 

Harry thought wistfully that he was down to his final twenty-four hours at Hogwarts, and he wasn't even in the right world. He looked up the queue and saw Ginny standing with Malfoy. She turned suddenly and caught his eye. The look she gave him was curious, speculative, almost appraising, as if she might be reconsidering her opinion of him. It was better than the distaste she'd thrown at him the other day, but it was also a nasty reminder of how wrong all this was. He was supposed to be standing with her, not Malfoy. He felt his fists clench.

Beside him, Hermione looked around her, and he heard her emit a small gasp. He turned to see Ron standing directly behind him, looking at the two of them with a set face. Harry opened his mouth to say something, anything, but at the same moment, the doors to the Great Hall were opened, and the students began crowding in. Harry couldn't seem to move from where he was, however, and Ron pushed past him and into the hall without a word.


	5. Chapter Five

****

The Price Of Victory, Chapter Five

The Hogwarts Express was slowing down as it neared King's Cross, bringing to an end one of the strangest journeys of Harry's life. He'd received his first shock when he'd boarded the train at Hogsmeade Station and had discovered that every compartment contained a statue-like Auror from the Ministry of Magic standing guard imperiously and silently. When he'd asked Hermione about the stringent security measures, she'd been surprised and had remarked in an undertone, "I thought you said You-Know-Who hasn't been defeated where you come from."

"He hasn't been, but they never saw fit to put Aurors on the train."

The Aurors had apparently been in place since the beginning of sixth year when the Ministry had uncovered a Death Eater plot to attack the Hogwarts Express.

Harry had passed the majority of the journey in silence. He'd been unable to stomach sharing a compartment with Draco and Ginny, who hadn't shown the slightest compunction about cuddling in front of either their fellow students or the Ministry Auror. It hadn't been very long before Harry had gone in search of a compartment he could have all to himself. He'd thought himself fortunate enough to find one, but upon reflection he'd realised the reason for this. There were fewer students making this trip. The more he'd thought about it, the more he'd realised all the signs had been there at Hogwarts, although he hadn't been paying much attention to them at the time. Part of the reason he'd missed the signs had been the reshuffling of the houses, of course, which had meant dining with a great many less familiar faces. But then Harry had been struck by the fact that he hadn't once been greeted by Colin Creevey, and he hadn't seen a trace of Dean Thomas or Justin Finch-Fletchley, either. A great many Muggle-borns had been missing, in fact. Not all, of course, for Hermione was still there, but enough to send a shiver of dread through him.

Hermione had joined him in the compartment at about the same as the lunch trolley was wheeled by. Harry had bought the usual assortment of sweets and cakes, but he'd deliberately avoided the Pumpkin Pasties. He'd seemed to have developed a sudden aversion to the pumpkin juice served in the Great Hall, something he'd noticed for the first time at the leaving feast the night before, when the taste of the juice threatened to cause him to lose his appetite altogether, and so he'd decided not to take any chances with the Pumpkin Pasties on the train. Hermione had not been good company for him, however, as she'd spent the entire afternoon buried in a book.

As the train rattled into King's Cross, Harry stood up, intending to fetch his trunk from the compartment where he'd left it. Hermione looked up at him in alarm, as the Auror, a grey-haired, stone-faced witch, moved to block his path.

"Sit down there, no disembarking until the all-clear signal is given."

Hermione, apparently used to the procedure, had not moved.

"I just want to get my trunk," Harry protested.

"You can get it when I say you can. Until then, stay put. Go on, sit!" The Auror went on muttering, as Harry obeyed reluctantly. He thought he heard something about his being old enough to know better. He shot Hermione a questioning look. "They have to make sure the platform is secure before they let us off the train," she informed him in a whisper.

Harry shook his head. He'd never seen security so tight; it had never been deemed necessary where he came from.

At last they were given clearance to disembark, and Harry went in search of his trunk. The compartment where he'd left it was now completely empty. Out of the window he could see the crowd of students meeting parents and saying goodbye to their friends for the summer. Perhaps some of them were saying goodbye forever, he thought with a shiver. Why did it seem that Voldemort was so much stronger here? So much was different about this world, but what was it that had allowed the enemy to gain so much more strength? Harry shook himself, collected his trunk and went to find Hermione on the platform. At the moment, his most pressing problem was convincing her mother to take him in until he could find a way to set things right.

He found Hermione on the other side of the barrier talking to an extraordinarily beautiful woman. He'd seen Hermione's mother once a long time ago, and at the time he'd not paid much attention to her. Now he wondered how he'd managed not to notice, even at the age of twelve. Hermione must take after her father in looks, Harry thought, perhaps a bit uncharitably, for her mother's hair was by no means bushy, and her teeth were on the small side.

Hermione turned to introduce Harry to her mother properly. "Mum, this is my friend, Harry." Harry noticed she didn't say boyfriend and wondered if her mother even knew about their relationship. "Harry, this is my mother, Helen."

Harry put out a hand. He had to swallow before he could speak, as Hermione's mother smiled at him. "Hello," was all he could manage.

"Hermione tells me you're coming to stay a bit earlier than planned, is that right?"

Harry looked at Hermione uncertainly. He had no idea what their actual plans had been. "Erm, yeah, that's right. If it's not inconvenient, that is."

"Not at all. I suddenly find myself in a very empty house as it happens." The note of bitterness in her tone was unmistakable. "But before I agree to anything, we need to make a few things clear. You sleep in the guest room and nowhere else." She looked hard at Harry, but he had no problem agreeing to this condition. "I'm a very busy woman, and I have no time to chaperone the two of you, so you have to promise me no funny business."

"That's not a problem, Mrs Granger. Hermione's not my girlfriend."

Hermione's mother narrowed her eyes dangerously, and for a moment Harry didn't think she'd believed him. He couldn't have been more sincere, however. "Please don't call me that," she said icily. "Ms Worthington will do nicely."

Harry cast another sidelong glance at Hermione, who looked apologetic. "Sorry, Mrs, erm, Ms Worthington."

Hermione's mother looked slightly less disapproving. "If we have that settled, I suppose you can stay."

"It's only until I can sort something out for myself. I really don't want to put you out, Ms Worthington."

Hermione's mother turned abruptly and began to walk out towards the street, leaving Hermione and Harry to push their laden trolleys in her wake. "Bit tetchy, isn't she?" Harry commented quietly.

"She's not usually like that. It's only since Dad left…" Hermione trailed off.

"Sorry about the name. I didn't know."

"She's been using her maiden name ever since this happened." 

They continued in silence until they had reached Ms Worthington's car, which was parked around the corner. Once they'd crowded into the back of the car and were on their way, or rather moving at a snail's pace in the heavy traffic, they were forced to endure Ms Worthington's increasing impatience. She seemed to respond with particular vehemence to the male drivers. Harry noticed Hermione sinking down into her seat in obvious embarrassment.

They inched their way through until they were finally on the motorway headed for Hemel Hempstead. Then Hermione's mother started in on her father, and how he'd claimed to have been bored with the marriage, they'd been too comfortable… Harry was suddenly struck by the phrasing that was similar to what Hermione had said to him the other day at Hogwarts. She'd said she felt comfortable with him. He stared straight out the window at the passing Hertfordshire countryside; he didn't dare look over at Hermione at the moment.

As if on cue, her mother was now giving Hermione advice on men. "Don't settle for the first boy who comes along… Don't make the same mistakes I did…" Harry stared harder out the window, but he could almost sense Hermione slouching down even further on the seat beside him. He was mortified for her.

After an extremely excruciating trip, they finally arrived at Hermione's home--Harry had to force himself not to think of it as the Granger house--a cosy-looking row house with a neat garden in the front. It was located very close to a school, which seemed very appropriate to Harry. He looked at his watch and realised that the entire journey had lasted less than an hour, in spite of the traffic. It had seemed much, much longer.

Hermione avoided meeting Harry's eyes, as they struggled with their trunks. Although they could officially do magic whenever they chose now, Hermione's neighbours were much too close to take a chance of being seen. They had to make two trips, carrying first Hermione's and then Harry's trunk between them. Ms Worthington disappeared as soon as they had arrived. Hermione then showed Harry to the guest bedroom, a small but tastefully decorated nook with a sloping ceiling, returning presently with bed linens and some towels.

"Here. We can make up your bed, and then you can unpack." She moved to make up the bed, but Harry stopped her.

"Let me do that. I don't want to be a bother. I'm not even supposed to be here."

"Nonsense. It's no bother at all."

"Don't you have your own things to unpack?"

She didn't reply but busied herself with making up his bed. It seemed she wanted to do anything to keep busy and avoid conversation. Harry thought he understood. She was still embarrassed over what her mother had said in the car. Harry knew her mother's words had struck too close to home. He wondered how long Hermione's discomfiture would continue. He expected Hermione's mother would have to go to work at some point, leaving them to their own devices, and Harry knew they'd need to work together if he was going to find a way to get back to where he belonged.

*

They began to make plans the following day after breakfast. Hermione's mother had left for work by then--not before giving the two of them a final admonition not to get up to anything they oughtn't--and the day stretched out before them, vast and empty. Harry brought up the subject of visiting the Burrow almost at once.

"Hermione, how far is it to Ottery St. Catchpole?" he asked without preamble. 

"Over a hundred miles. Harry, you can't be thinking of going over there."

"Yeah, I was actually."

"You can't. It's too dangerous."

"What do you mean too dangerous? We're talking about the Weasleys here. And I don't believe that story about Ron betraying me!" He felt as if she were babying him, and he didn't like it. 

"But what about You-Know-Who?" she whispered.

That was a point. From what he'd seen yesterday on the train, Voldemort was more powerful here, but Harry knew he had to do something to rectify the situation, and that meant having the Weasleys on his side. He couldn't imagine any other way of operating. "How will Voldemort know what I'm up to? He doesn't even know where I am, does he?"

"Well, no. How could he know?"

"Only if he had a spy about. And if that were the case, why would he even wait to attack?" Hermione had told Harry the previous evening that her house was well-protected against Dark Magic. Dumbledore himself had cast the wards over it. Hermione was a prime target, because of her status as a Muggle-born and her friendship with Harry. Harry knew he was as safe here as he was anywhere else, with the added bonus of no one knowing where he was. How long it would take for his whereabouts to become known was another story. Dumbledore had, of course, been informed, but the enemy would learn he was here eventually, too. He had to act before this information got out, and he pointed this out to Hermione, who frowned.

"How are we going to get to the Burrow then?"

"Floo?"

"I'm not on the network. It's too dangerous. And I don't have a car, and we don't have our Apparition licenses yet."

"We'll just have to fly then."

"Don't be ridiculous! We'll be spotted for sure."

"There is the invisibility cloak, but we both can't fit under it on brooms. No, we'll have to go at night."

"Mum would never let me."

"She doesn't have to know. We'll sneak out then. Just like at school."

Hermione pursed her lips. Breaking rules at school was one thing, but her mother was evidently another force to be reckoned with. "I don't like this, Harry."

"Have you got a better suggestion?"

"No, but…" She hesitated, her brow furrowing in concentration. Harry reckoned she was looking for flaws in the plan. "All right. If we do this--and I'm not agreeing yet, mind you--we have to plan this carefully. How long will it take to fly to Ottery St. Catchpole?"

"Depends on how far it is. You said over a hundred miles. We need a map."

"Right, and that brings up another point. If we fly at night, how are we going to find our way?"

"Hermione! Are you a witch or not?" Hermione blushed at the reminder of their first year, quite possibly remembering that Ron had been the one to say that to her, as Harry drew out his wand and demonstrated the Four-Point Spell. "Seems to me, you were the one who discovered that one, not me."

Hermione changed the subject. "Then there's the matter of Mum…"

"Not if we sneak out at night," Harry protested.

"Well, we can't exactly turn up on the Weasleys' doorstep at three in the morning, can we? We'll have to time things so we arrive at a decent hour, which means we won't be here when Mum gets up in the morning. What's she going to think?"

Harry grudgingly admitted to himself that she had a point. He found it a bit irritating that she was always right. "Don't you ever have a lie-in?" he asked.

"No."

"Damn it." She opened her mouth to protest but on seeing Harry's look immediately thought better of it. Harry thought for a minute or two. Then he had an idea. "Listen, what if we told your mum that we were going out or something, and we'd be out late. Then she wouldn't expect us to get up the next morning. Come on, she'd have to buy that. It's the holidays, after all. We've finished school. Won't she expect us to celebrate?"

Hermione mulled this over a bit. "I don't know…" she said. "She'll think we stayed out all night in that case."

Harry ran an exasperated hand through his hair. He wondered how he managed to get along with her sometimes, and then he realised that when Ron was around he acted as sort of a buffer between them, his humour often lightening the atmosphere. "Hermione," he grated. "We don't actually _have _to stay out all night. We just make it look as if we've stayed out late. We can make some noise as we go _out_ and hope your mum thinks we're coming _in_. And then we have to make sure we get back here before your mum gets suspicious."

"Harry, there are about a hundred holes in that plan."

"What's more important, Hermione, setting things right and trying to defeat Voldemort or staying on your mum's good side?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" Hermione got up, rummaged through a drawer and returned with a map. 

*

At half past two in the morning, Harry silently opened the casement of the dormer window in his room and crept out onto the roof. He looked to his left to see Hermione doing the same. Earlier, they'd told Hermione's mother that they were going to the cinema and then to some sort of club Harry had never heard of. In reality, they'd hidden their brooms in the bushes of the back garden and gone to loiter in a nearby park, not saying much to each other and waiting for the time to pass, which it did. Slowly. At last it had been time for them to return to Hermione's house, and they'd entered a bit noisily as if they'd been drinking. Then they'd both gone into their rooms and waited for a half hour to make sure Hermione's mother was asleep before sneaking out of the house.

There was a conveniently located tree whose branches spread near Hermione's window. She had already jumped the gap and was clambering down. Luckily Dr Worthington's bedroom was on the opposite side of the house. As Harry moved along the eaves to follow Hermione, he thought ruefully how nice it would have been to have such a means of escape at the Dursleys'.

Once on the ground, they quickly located their brooms and kicked off into the night sky. Harry had a map in his pocket, but it would not be a whole lot of help in the dark. He'd brought it mostly in case of emergency: if they got truly lost they could land and get their bearings. He was planning to navigate using his wand as a guide. He performed the Four-Point Spell and turned his broom towards the south-west.

An hour and a half later, he was quite fed up. Hermione's broom was most definitely not the latest racing model, and Harry found it very irksome to have to reign himself in so that she could keep up. A time or two, he'd had to fight the urge to put on a burst of speed and pull ahead. He'd missed the feeling of freedom when he was flying these past months. In his life he'd spent them penned inside Hogwarts, and now he had an opportunity to spread his wings and found himself obliged to hold back for Hermione's sake.

"Do you think we're close yet?" Hermione called over to him.

"No idea." It was too dark to see anything, and Harry knew it was nearly four in the morning. If the sky had begun lightening at all he could not see it. Their backs were turned to where the sun would rise. "I think we're going to have to land and get our bearings."

He pointed his Firebolt towards the ground. Behind him, he heard Hermione follow on her Cleansweep. There was a dull thud as she landed, and Harry turned to see her picking herself up off the ground. He bit back an impatient sigh.

They seemed to be on the outskirts of a large town. They'd landed on pavement, and Harry noticed a sign up the road. Squinting at it, he made out Bournemouth. He pulled out the map and muttered, "_Lumos."_ Hermione came to look over his shoulder.

"We've come too far south," Hermione informed him. "We must be on the northern side of the town, or we would have noticed the Channel."

"We'll have to fly due west from now on. Come on, we still have miles to go. Point me."

Harry kicked off again, heading west. After another half hour, they set down near the village of Northleigh. Harry consulted the map again. "Nearly there. What do you say we take a rest and wait until it's lighter out? In any case, we have to wait until the Weasleys are out of bed."

Hermione gave a half-hearted nod by way of reply, she was so exhausted. She didn't even think to protest about the possibility of being seen by Muggles, Harry noted. He turned and looked towards the east. The sky was definitely lighter. In another hour or so, it would be light enough to follow the road, and yet early enough to avoid all but the earliest risers. Harry stretched out on the ground and dozed off.

He awoke with a start. Hermione was shaking him. 

"Mwhssi?"

"Wake up, Harry, it's nearly seven!"

They'd both fallen asleep, seemingly, and they'd been lucky no one had seen them. Harry shook off the last threads of the dream he'd been having, a dream of Ginny in the snow. He'd be seeing her soon, he though, anticipation thrilling through him. 

"It's too late, we can't fly the rest of the way." Hermione sounded petulant. Her face was pale with lack of sleep.

Harry looked at the map again. "We've got almost ten miles to go. We can't walk that far. We won't get there until noon, and then we'll never make it back to your place in time. Besides, we'd have to fly back in broad daylight…"

Hermione still looked undecided, but Harry had had enough. He mounted his broom and kicked off once more, leaving her no choice but to follow him. 

They landed at last in the Weasleys' front yard, fortunate to have escaped notice, as far as Harry could tell. Looking up at the Burrow, he was surprised to see it no longer looked as if it was on the verge of falling down. It now looked almost like a normal house, its walls square and its roof in repair. There were no chickens milling about in the yard, and the rusty cauldron, which Harry remembered was no longer next to the door. Harry turned to Hermione, who didn't look the least bit surprised to see the Burrow in this state, for an explanation.

"What?" she asked, perplexed by his questioning expression.

"What have they done to their house?"

"Oh, well, I imagine they've fixed it up a bit."

"A bit? Last I saw it, it was about to fall over."

"It hasn't been that bad for years."

"What do you mean?" Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. The yard was deserted, but he still didn't want to take any chances at being overheard. "Where did they get the money?"

"Mr Weasley was made Minister for Magic, didn't you know? After he caught Draco's father, he was in a very good position, and he was named to the post." Harry remembered Malfoy telling him about that in their dormitory.

"What the hell are you doing here?" 

Harry turned to see Ron coming out of the door. He did not look happy to see them.


	6. Chapter Six

****

The Price of Victory, chapter 6

"Well?" Ron asked again, coming up to the both of them. "What do you bloody think you're accomplishing by turning up here?" Harry noticed then that Ron seemed to be directing his question to Hermione more than to him, and his tone carried a note of resentment more than anything else.

Harry cast a sidelong glance at Hermione and saw her redden. "I've come here to talk to you, Ron," Harry replied. "Something very strange is going on, and we need your help to set things right."

"And what makes you think I'll help you?" He looked straight at Harry now. "Either of you? I sold you out, didn't I?"

"I don't believe that, Ron. You'd never do anything like that." 

"And just what's happened to make you change your mind? Up until your latest disappearance, you were ready to believe the worst of me!"

"Ron, it's not the same Harry," Hermione interceded.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course it's the same Harry."

"No, Ron, it's not. I didn't believe it at first either, but if you'd let us explain…"

"There's nothing to explain. If this isn't the same Harry, then it's someone taking Polyjuice. What's the matter, Hermione, your brain addled from too much shagging? Obviously it's a plot to infiltrate the Minister for Magic."

CRACK!

Ron took a few staggering steps backward as Hermione's hand met sharply with his cheek. Harry could hardly blame her reaction, and he couldn't help but think of her mother. Apparently she had inherited something from that side of her family after all. Ron steadied himself as he rubbed the angry red spot that was rising on his face.

"Listen, Ron," Harry tried once more in a placating tone. "Just promise me one thing. You'll listen to my story, and if you don't believe me, you can send me off. This is too important to let go."

Ron looked undecided for a moment, but before he could reply, another voice was heard in the yard.

"Harry! I haven't seen you in, well…" It was Mrs Weasley, and she looked as if she'd seen a ghost. In a way she had, Harry supposed. "Why don't you come in, Harry dear? You too, Hermione," she added almost as an afterthought.

Ron was looking obstinately at his mother but didn't dare protest. She was returning his glare with an expression that brooked no defiance: the sabre-toothed tiger was not far from the surface at the moment. They all followed her into the kitchen in silence.

Harry was struck once more by the Weasley family's change in fortune as he entered the house. The kitchen was as spotless as ever, but it was all somehow less shabby. The place looked as if it had been freshly painted, and the cookbooks, which were normally stacked haphazardly on the mantelpiece, were nowhere in evidence. The battered table and chairs had been replaced. It all looked very nice but at the expense of some of its former character and warmth.

The table had been set for breakfast, and Mrs Weasley was adding two places. Harry's eyes were inevitably drawn to Ginny, who had risen from her seat in surprise when he and Hermione had come in. He couldn't help but think about the Ginny he'd left behind in his own world. She would never have gazed at him with such an odd mixture of curiosity and hostility. He wondered if the Weasley family he'd left behind were terribly worried about his whereabouts. He had no way of knowing if he were even missing from his world. Perhaps, and a strange thrill of terror coursed through him at the idea, he'd managed to switch places with the Harry from this world. Perhaps no one there would even knew things were not as they should be…

Harry gave himself a mental shake. Such thoughts were not going to get him anywhere. Right now he needed to concentrate his energies on getting the Weasleys--all of them--onto his side. He felt as if he'd never be able to right matters otherwise.

Mrs Weasley ushered Harry and Hermione into seats at the table and began serving them a copious breakfast. Ignoring the stony silence coming from her two youngest children, if indeed she noticed it at all, she asked, "What brings you two by so early today? I must admit…" She trailed off, and Harry imagined she was about to mention something unpleasant. The situation was very awkward, but Mrs Weasley was doing her best to be polite and not let the awkwardness show.

"We came to see Ron," Harry informed her.

"You did?" She couldn't keep the astonishment out of her tone now.

"Yes, we did. I think there's been a misunderstanding between us, and it's gone on long enough. I've come to try and set things straight."

The silence that met this pronouncement was deafening. But then Ron broke it. "There's been no misunderstanding," he grated bitterly. "None at all. You'll believe what you want to believe. You always have." 

"Ron, just tell me what happened last year," Harry insisted. "There are things happening you don't know about. You need to listen to this. It's important. I need your help."

"Oh, so that's it, is it?" Ron spat at them. "You're only willing to listen because you need me for something. Otherwise you wouldn't give a shit would you?" Ron ignored his mother's outraged gasp at his language. "Well, I'm not the great prat you seem to think I am!" 

At this, Ron got up from the table and left the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. His footsteps echoed through the house, only fading when he'd reached the fifth landing. His bedroom door closed with a dull thud.

Harry was acutely embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Mrs Weasley. I didn't mean to upset him like that, but I think this has gone on long enough. It's very important that he listen to what I have to say."

"I'm sure it is, dear, or you wouldn't have risked so much to come over here. How did you manage it without being seen?"

Harry was suddenly aware that Ginny was still at the table listening to everything they said. He could feel her brown gaze on him. "We came by broomstick. We've been flying most of the night."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? If You-Know-Who had caught you again…"

"That's why we had to come as soon as we could. Before You-Know-Who could find out where Harry was." Mrs Weasley looked sharply at Hermione. "He's staying at my house until we get this sorted out," she admitted, looking down at her plate and colouring.

Harry watched Mrs Weasley's smile become decidedly fixed. "And I want to get this sorted out as soon as possible," Harry added quickly. "You have to believe me. I haven't come here to hurt Ron. I do need his help with this. If he'd only listen to me…"

"You're welcome to try, dear, but I can't be held responsible if he decides to flatten you." Harry rose from the table. Hermione seemed as if she wanted to follow, but Mrs Weasley stopped her. "I don't think it's a very good idea for you to go up there." Her tone was decidedly icy now that she was addressing Hermione. "There's something going on here. Why don't you tell me what it is?"

Hermione cast a panicked look in Harry's direction, but he could think of no reason why Mrs Weasley shouldn't be told the truth. He merely nodded at her, before turning towards the stairs to Ron's room. As he went, he heard Hermione begin in an uncertain voice, "This is going to sound, well, unbelievable. I didn't want to believe it myself at first, but…"

Harry rapidly climbed the stairs to the top of the house. Before Ron's closed door, he hesitated. Should he knock first or go right in? Opting for the latter, he quietly opened the door and slipped into the bedroom. Ron was sprawled out on his bed, idly picking at loose threads on the comforter. This room, at least, hadn't changed at all from the way Harry remembered it. He imagined that Ron loved his Chudley Cannons too much to redecorate.

Ron didn't look up, but he knew who was standing there. "Can't you take a hint? I don't want to talk to you."

"Then don't talk. Just listen for now. I have to tell you something, and you're not going to believe me, but all I ask is that you hear me out…" And then he launched into the story of how he came to be in this alternate reality. Ron had long since stopped picking at his bedspread when Harry had finished. Harry had the impression he'd been listening in spite of himself.

"What a load of bullocks!" said Ron, getting to his feet. "I know everyone thinks I'm stupid, but, bloody hell, Harry! You've made up better stories for your Divination homework!"

"Hermione believed it. I managed to convince her," Harry said reasonably. 

"Well, what did you want to come all the way over here and tell me that for? I don't look stupid enough for you?"

Harry sighed. "Because I need to get back to where I belong, and to do that I need your help."

"Why would you trust me to give you any help? Do you know what I did to you last year?" The challenge in Ron's voice was unmistakable, but something in it rang false to Harry's ears.

"I know what Malfoy told me." Harry thought Ron's head came up just a bit at hearing him refer to Malfoy by his last name. "But I don't believe a word of it. I know that you would never betray me."

"What about your girlfriend? Did she back Malfoy up?"

"Hermione isn't my girlfriend, Ron, she's yours, as far as I'm concerned.

"Yeah, and some confidence she must have in me to tell think I sold my best friend out to You-Know-Who."

"Did you?"

"Ask around, everyone else will tell you the same thing."

"I'm asking you, Ron. Tell me what really happened last spring. I won't believe you betrayed me unless you can look me in the eye and tell me yourself. Go on, tell me."

Ron looked Harry straight in the eye and opened his mouth. For one wild moment, Harry was sure Ron would tell him it was all true. But then Ron closed his mouth again. He couldn't do it, Harry realised, and elation burst through him. Ron sat down on his bed again and stared at the floor. 

"You'll know about Hermione and me, I reckon."

"Yes, I asked her about it. She said you told her you loved her."

"I always have." Harry had to strain his ears to hear Ron speak. He sounded deflated. "I told her, but she was already with you…"

"Not with me," Harry interrupted.

"All right not with _you_ but with the other Harry."

"Even that much isn't true, according to Hermione. She told me everyone thought we were a couple before we ever were. And we got definitely together after you'd talked to her."

"That's what she told me, too, but I didn't believe her. And then when she pushed me away, I reckoned it was proof that she liked you and not me. Damn Dumbledore and his ideas, anyway!"

"What do you mean?"

"He had the bright idea to break up the houses. Thought it would make for better relations with everyone. Said it might stop some of the Slytherins from going over to the enemy. But it broke us up, the three of us, that is. I was pushed aside for Malfoy. And since the three of us weren't in as much contact as before, well, you and Hermione remained together, and everyone naturally assumed… I was jealous, I admit that. I couldn't stand to see the two of you together, so I took to going off on my own. I had this place I went to outside the Hogwarts grounds. The enemy must have found out about it, because five of them jumped me one day…"

Ron stopped here and buried his face in his hands. Harry thought he shuddered slightly. Ron took his face out of his hands and continued, staring out the window. "I didn't mean to do it, Harry. They didn't get anything out of me for a long time, but it hurt so much. They didn't use Cruciatus, because they wanted information, and they needed me sane to give it, but they know other ways to hurt you, and they're not afraid to use them. And then they started getting tricky on me. Asking me all sorts of things that didn't seem to have to do with anything. But in the end I told them what they wanted to know. I must have, although by then I wasn't even sure what it was they wanted, because they let me go. And that was probably the worst thing they could have done. Because they left me to live with what I'd done."

"No, Ron. It doesn't matter. No one could have held out forever."

"But I told them, and they took you. Because of information _I_ gave them."

"They didn't keep me long," Harry pointed out. "I got away."

"They should never have taken you at all. It's my fault that happened!"

"I don't think that, Ron." Harry was beginning to realise that Ron had spent the past year eaten away by guilt over this, acting much in the same way that Sirius had when he'd blamed himself for the deaths of Harry's parents. Had Ron been allowing himself to take the blame on purpose? It would have been like a punishment to let everyone think he was capable of betraying his best friend, and Harry suddenly felt very awkward. "Listen, Ron, let's just forget about it. I'm here to defeat Voldemort and find a way to put things back as they ought to be. If I can do that, you'll be with Hermione. But I need your help. We've always been a team."

"Yes, but what do you need me for? You've got the cleverest witch ever to set foot in Hogwarts on your side."

Harry thought of the journey to the Burrow he'd just taken, and he thought of the time during fourth year when he and Ron had had a falling out. Without him things just weren't the same, but Harry wasn't sure how to express this. "Ron, just trust me, we need you, too."

Ron met Harry's gaze then and nodded once. "What do you want me to do?"

"Dunno yet. I've no idea how to go about setting things right."

"What does Hermione have to say about it?"

"She doesn't know, either. You know, it's odd. In the other world, I used a spell to defeat Voldemort. I tried to show it to Hermione, but we couldn't find the book anywhere."

"Maybe it's a sign. Maybe you're not meant to defeat You-Know-Who that way here."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Sign? Don't tell me you've started taking all that Divination rubbish seriously." Ron's smile was a bit forced, but Harry tried to look on it as a step in the right direction. "You know, Hermione said almost the same thing, leaving out the bit about signs, of course."

"Hermione… Harry, what am I going to say to her? I've been an absolute git around her. Not just today. Ever since last year."

"Sorry, mate, I'm afraid I can't help you there, but you're going to have to face her sometime."

Ron sighed. "Yeah, I know. Be nice if I could just stay up here all day though."

"She wouldn't let you, and you know it. She'd come up after you."

"She didn't come after me all year, Harry." He sounded resigned.

"When she learns the truth, she'll come around. I'd tell her, but I think it would be best if you did."

Ron knew Harry was right; his expression said so. After a few more moments, he got up from his bed and without another word left the room, leaving Harry to follow. 

When Harry came back to the kitchen, silence reigned. Hermione had obviously finished telling Mrs Weasley and Ginny his story, and the two Weasley women turned to stare at him, as if they could detect some outward sign that he wasn't the Harry they'd always known. Ron and Hermione, who seemed to be deliberately avoiding meeting each other's eyes, stared at him, as well, and Harry felt the heat rising in his cheeks.

Mrs Weasley was the first to break out of her trance-like state. She shook herself slightly and coloured, as if she'd only just realised how impolite she'd been. "Well," she said, "this house isn't going to put itself in order." She rose from the table and with a wave of her wand sent the breakfast dishes flying towards the sink. Harry watched as Ron turned a bit shyly towards Hermione and said something to her quietly. He must have asked her for a private word, since she rose mutely from the table and followed him outside. Harry was soon left alone with Ginny, when Mrs Weasley strode briskly the kitchen to attend to chores elsewhere in the Burrow.

Harry hadn't moved from the spot he'd been standing in ever since he'd entered the kitchen. He felt very self-conscious standing there in view of the frosty way she'd been treating him. But she surprised him by getting out of her seat at the table and approaching him.

"Hermione told us what happened," she said. "Is it true?"

"Yes, it's true."

"And where you come from…" She hesitated and looked at the floor. "You and Hermione aren't…"

"No!" Harry shouted, and the sound echoed in the empty kitchen. Then it struck him that Hermione would have been talking their relationship, or rather lack of one, in front of Mrs Weasley. That didn't seem to make sense. "Wait, did Hermione tell you that?"

He saw her swallow. "No, she didn't. You did."

He hadn't discussed this with her, ever. "_I_ did? When?"

She craned her neck to see behind him, apparently looking to see if her mother was within earshot. "In the dormitory. When I was there with Draco," she said in a low voice. Harry thought for a moment, and he must have looked confused, for she added, "You asked him what he was doing with _your_ girlfriend."

Now Harry remembered the scene. "Oh, yeah. Right."

"So is it true?"  


"Well, yes, where I come from, you're my girlfriend." And I love you, he added silently. God, he missed her. As he stared down at her, her expression seemed to soften. For a moment he could see traces of the Ginny he knew, and it made him long for her even more. Time seemed to stop while they stared into each other's eyes, and then he could stand it no longer. He leaned in and kissed her.

For thirty seconds she responded, and it was wonderful. She tasted as sweet as he remembered, and he reached for her to pull her fully against him. It was a mistake. Ginny pushed him away. She was breathing a bit harder than usual, and her eyes were bemused but quickly coming back into focus. It was as if she'd forgotten whom she was with for an instant, but had had a sudden, rude awakening. She drew back a hand and slapped him.

"Don't you ever, _ever_ do that again!" And she pushed past him and stormed up the stairs, leaving Harry to rub a stinging cheek.

Harry stood frozen for a moment, stunned. Then anger flashed through him, white and hot. He kicked the doorframe. It wasn't fair! He'd gone out, alone, and faced Voldemort. There was a reasonable chance that Voldemort had been defeated in the encounter. He kicked the doorframe once more. Harry had seen enough Muggle movies on the Dursleys' telly to know the hero was supposed to ride off into the sunset with his girl. And what sort of reward did Harry get? He was sent to a bloody (kick!) stupid (kick!) world were everything was backwards (kick!), where he was separated from one of his best friends (kick!), where that friend had gone through hell (kick!), where his other friend was going through another sort of hell with her mother (kick!), and he had to go out and defeat Voldemort all over again!

"What's the matter, Harry?" 

Mrs Weasley standing behind him, no doubt attracted by all noise he'd been making by taking his feelings out on her mouldings. He looked sheepishly at the black marks his shoes had made on the white paint. Mrs Weasley, however, didn't seem annoyed about the damage he'd caused. She looked genuinely concerned.

"It's not fair," he said simply, and felt his eyes burn. "It's just not fair."

"What isn't fair?"

"Everything…" His voice cracked, and he couldn't go on. He felt himself enveloped in a motherly hug, such as he'd rarely experienced in his life. Unlike the time she'd comforted him after the Tri-Wizard Tournament, he let himself go. His tears were born of frustration and anger more than anything else. After a while he felt as if the burden had been lifted the slightest bit, and it struck him how much he'd grown since the last time she'd done this.

"Thank you," he said, pulling back and rather unsure what to do next. 

"Hermione told us what you did. That can't have been easy. And to think it isn't even over yet…"

Harry nodded once. It was as if she'd read his mind. He looked at his watch and saw that the morning was further advanced than he'd thought. There were still plans to be made, but Ron and Hermione were still outside. He'd half-expected to hear their voices raised in argument by now, but everything was quiet. But time was becoming an issue. They'd have to decide what their next move should be, and soon, because as it stood now, he and Hermione would never make it back to Hemel Hempstead before Hermione's mother became suspicious.

"I suppose I should see where Ron and Hermione have gone," he said. "Hermione and I will have to head off soon."

"Oh, no, dear, you can't do that. Not in daylight. It's much too dangerous."

"Hermione's mother doesn't know where we are." Harry felt himself redden at this admission. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips. "She'll be worried."

"You'll have to send her word, then. You can use Ron's owl. I can't let you leave."

"Why not? We can manage something so the Muggles don't see us."

"That's not the problem. Arthur had word this morning. He had to go into the Ministry early. He didn't have details, but something happened last night, something to do with You-Know-Who. Until we know what it is, you're much safer here."

Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest, but he wasn't given the chance. Ron and Hermione came back in then, and they looked as if some sort of understanding had been reached. "We're ready, Harry," Hermione said. "Whatever we have to do to help you, we'll do it." Mrs Weasley muttered something about finishing her housework and left the room.

"But I don't even know where to begin."

"You used a spell before, didn't you?" asked Ron. Harry nodded. "And you remember how you did it, don't you?"

"Of course I do. But we don't know if it will work. We looked for the book Hermione found it in and it wasn't in the library."

"You told Dumbledore about it, didn't you?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, I did. When I woke up in the hospital wing, he asked me about it."

"And what did he say?"

"Nothing much. He seemed more interested in working out what had happened to me. He didn't dwell on the spell at all." Harry wracked his brains, trying to remember if Dumbledore had had any sort of reaction to the name of the spell. He couldn't recall anything peculiar. "It's odd, that, now that I think about it. I wish we could have found that spell book."

"But if it doesn't exist…"

"I'm not so sure it doesn't. From what I've seen, everything exists in this world that did where I'm from. It's just not quite as it should be. Think about it. If the spell didn't exist here, Dumbledore would have said something, wouldn't he? But he didn't bat an eyelash when I told him. We should have looked harder for that book."

"If it's not in Hogwarts library then where is it?"

"It could be at the Ministry," put in Ron. "They've got a library with every spell book ever written. But if you remember how to do the spell, Harry, why do you need the book?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling I'll need it. Perhaps the spell exists under a slightly different form here. I don't know. But we have to start somewhere."

"We need to decide what we're going to do, and soon," said Hermione. "Harry and I have to get back home soon."

Harry shook his head. "Mrs Weasley told me something's going on with Voldemort and we'd have to stay here. We're going to have to borrow Pig, Ron. We need to let Hermione's mum know where we are."

Hermione looked unhappy with the situation, and she looked as if she were going to protest this turn of events. Before she could say anything, however, Mr Weasley and Percy appeared suddenly in the kitchen, both of them looking quite dishevelled and out of breath. If either of them was surprised to see Harry or Hermione there, they made no comment. Mr Weasley turned immediately to Ron and asked, "Where are your mother and Ginny? There's been an attack. A bad one." 

__

A/N: A huge thanks to Amy for her beta help. She's done a great job making me feel secure in my psychology.


	7. Chapter Seven

****

The Price of Victory, chapter 7

As Ron left the room to get his mother, Mr Weasley looked at Harry and Hermione as if seeing them for the first time. "How did you come to be here?" he asked in surprise.

Harry opened his mouth, resigned to yet another long-winded explanation, but before he could begin, Mrs Weasley came in, followed by Ginny and Ron.

"There's no time for that now, Arthur. I've heard the story, and it's a long one. I can explain later. What's this about an attack?"

"Perhaps it's for the best that you're here, the both of you," said Mr Weasley slowly. "Early this morning there was a general attack. According to the preliminary reports, it looks as if the homes of Muggle-borns were targeted."

Hermione gasped at this, and Harry turned to see that she'd put a hand over her mouth. As he watched, Ron took a step closer to her.

"Listen, I can't stay. I have to get straight back to the Ministry of Magic. I just wanted to be sure everything was all right here." 

He looked at his wife, who replied to his unspoken question. "It's been a quiet morning here. Beyond Harry and Hermione turning up, nothing out of the ordinary has happened."

"I'll be off then. Percy can fill you in on the details."

"Are you sure you can't stay?"

"No, I have to go back and wait on more information as it comes in. I don't know when I'll be home tonight. Don't expect me for supper." He kissed his wife's cheek before heading back outside. When he'd gone, they all turned to Percy.

"We don't know very much," he said. "Reports were still coming in, but as far as we've been able to determine, there has been another general attack, similar to the one last summer."

Harry thought of the Muggle-borns he'd missed at the leaving feast, and a cold feeling of foreboding settled into the pit of his stomach. 

"Mum!" Hermione cried. "I can't stay here. I have to go back home and make sure she's all right."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Hermione," said Percy. "It's far too dangerous."

"Nonsense. Harry and I made it here just fine. We can go back the way we came."

"Which was how?"

"On broomsticks."

"No, it's out of the question."

"Try and stop me." She began to move towards the door. Ron reached out and grabbed her arm.

"I think you ought to wait and see what else Percy can tell us. You haven't told us all you can, have you Perce?"

"No," he replied grimly. "Hermione, apparently your house was targeted."

Hermione went white and jerked at her arm. "Let me go, Ron! I have to go!"

"Hermione," said Percy gently. "There's nothing to go back to. The house was destroyed."

"NO! How do you know that?"  


"Hermione, as a Muggle-born, you were already a target. Being Head Girl and at the top of your class made you even more susceptible. And then there's your association with Harry… Anyway, the Ministry of Magic has had your house under surveillance for a while now. We know Harry has been staying there since the end of term. The Death Eaters must have somehow known he was there, as well."

Hermione swallowed visibly. She seemed to sway against Ron. "And Mum?" she whispered.

"There's been no word. I'm sorry."

Harry felt very bad for Hermione. In a way not knowing was worse… She let out a sob, and Ron put an arm around her. She hid her face against his shoulder. Harry looked about him uncomfortably. He knew this must look very odd to the Weasleys. The way they were used to things, he ought to be the one comforting Hermione. Mrs Weasley had placed a hand over her heart and gone pale. Ginny mumbled something about making tea.

When Hermione had mastered herself, she raised her head and looked at Percy. "Do you know… Do you know what time it happened?"

"Early this morning."

"There's a chance then. There's a chance she's all right. She was going to go into the office early today. Please, I have to see if she's all right."

"No, Hermione, it's best if you stay here. We'll let you know as soon as the Ministry finds out anything."

"At least let me go into the village and ring the office. Please."  


Percy hesitated. "I don't know…"

Ron cut him off. "Come on, Perce. She has a right to know. It's much safer for her to ring from the village than to try to go home, isn't it? I'll go with her."

"Ron, you're just as much a target…"

"We're _all_ targets," interrupted Hermione vehemently. "There's nothing we can do about that. But I'm not going to let you stop me from finding out if Mum's all right."

She pulled away from Ron and moved toward the door once more. Ron started to follow.

"Ron," said Mrs Weasley. "Be careful. And come straight home."

Ron left the house, leaving Harry alone with Percy, Mrs Weasley and Ginny. They all sat down at the kitchen table with hot mugs of tea that Ginny had made. "What else can you tell us?" Harry asked Percy.

"Not a whole lot. We knew about Hermione's house specifically because the Ministry of Magic has been watching it. There have been reports of the Dark Mark being seen throughout England today." They listened with increasing horror, as Percy told them of other places, some of the names familiar, which had fallen under the terror of Voldemort's minions. Harry wondered why his scar hadn't warned him of all this dark activity, but then he realised this must be because Voldemort wasn't directly involved.

At length Ron and Hermione returned from the village, and the relief was visible on Hermione's features.

"Mum's all right," she informed them. "She wasn't at home when the house was attacked." She paused and grimaced. "Of course, she didn't know the house had been destroyed either, or that Harry and I weren't there. She wasn't pleased about that."

"Does she have anywhere to go?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"She told me she'd make arrangements. She wanted to have a look at the damage first." Hermione hesitated. "I'm going to have to go back to her. I've no way of keeping in touch…"

"That's out of the question, Hermione, as I told you before," said Percy. "It's far too dangerous. You and Harry ought to be safe here."

"Until the Death Eaters attack, you mean?"

"Well, they don't know you're here, do they?"

"I suppose not, but…"  


"Can't she just send you an owl, dear?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"We haven't got one. She knows where I am at least, but she'll just assume she can ring me whenever she needs to."

"You can send Pig to her," suggested Ron. "You were going to anyway. Send him with a message explaining how she can keep in touch."

"I don't know, Ron," replied Hermione. "Isn't Pig likely to attract attention? He's always been so excitable."

Ron looked slightly hurt. "He's calmed down a lot." Everyone looked sceptical. "Well, he has!"

All this talk of owls reminded Harry of Hedwig. He vas very glad she'd been out hunting last night. With any luck, she'd have had the sense to stay away from Hermione's house this morning.

"I suppose it's the best we can do," said Hermione. There seemed to be some sort of fragile peace agreement between her and Ron, and she was obviously making an effort to keep things that way.

"I'll go get Pig, then," said Ron. 

Mrs Weasley produced a piece of parchment and a quill. While Hermione wrote a note to her mother in her precise script, Harry surreptitiously watched Ginny. She'd seemed rather tense about something ever since Ron had offered his owl to Hermione.

Ron came back to the kitchen empty-handed. "I can't find the stupid git anywhere." His eyes fell on Ginny. "You didn't borrow him, did you, Ginny?"

Ginny was defiant. "And what if I have?"

"You didn't ask if you could for one thing."

"It doesn't matter," said Hermione quickly. "I can always use Aeneas." 

Harry knew that Errol had gone to his reward, at least where he came from, and he assumed that Aeneas was the Weasley family's present post owl.

"The only reason you'd borrow Pig without asking," Ron went on, "is because you're writing to that git Malfoy."

This seemed to be a sore point with more than just Ron, for Mrs Weasley asked, "Is that true, Ginny?" Ginny didn't reply; she merely glared at them all. "Answer me, young lady. Is it true you're owling the Malfoy boy?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable look. It was apparent that Ginny and Draco's relationship was disapproved of, and Ron had been in a poor position to keep and eye on his sister's doings. Harry had seen enough of Ginny and Draco together at Hogwarts to know that Ron wouldn't have liked their doings very much. 

"Yes, mother, it's true," Ginny grated. Mrs Weasley pressed her lips into a thin line. "Look, Mum, just because his father was in deep with You-Know-Who, doesn't mean Draco's going to join the Death Eaters. Draco hates his father. He doesn't want to be anything like him."

Harry's stomach turned over. This definitely wasn't the Draco Malfoy he knew. He wondered if Ginny was being deceived. She had a better standing in wizarding society here. Perhaps Malfoy was using her to get ahead of the game, or worse, to attempt to get closer to the Minister for Magic. If he actually were a Death Eater…

Mrs Weasley was evidently thinking along the same lines. "That may be what he's told you, but you can't afford to take chances. You know very well you've been forbidden to contact him."

"Honestly, Mum, you don't even know him! You're prejudiced against him because he was in Slytherin! This is the whole reason why we don't have houses at Hogwarts anymore!"

"Slytherin has nothing to do with it. I know enough about his family to know how he was raised. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Just because his father and Dad didn't like each other when they were both at school…"

"His father was in You-Know-Who's inner circle! And I don't think I need to remind you…"

Ginny cut her off. "That doesn't mean that Draco is evil! It doesn't! I know him, and he isn't!"

Harry felt Hermione's eyes on him. She was giving him an odd look, as if she expected him to come to Malfoy's defence. There wasn't any way in hell he was about to do that.

"What are you going to do about it, Mum? I've already sent Pig out to him."

"For the last time, you are not to contact that boy again!"

Ginny simply glared at her mother for a long moment. Then she walked out of the room. A minute later, they all heard a door slam overhead. Mrs Weasley sighed resignedly. "She's going to be the death of me," Harry heard her mutter. 

In the wake of Ginny's departure, Percy got up from the table. "Much as I'd like to stay and witness the family drama, I'm needed back at the Ministry. Cheerio!"

Ron rolled his eyes behind his brother's back, as Percy walked out of the room. Harry stifled a snigger. The day was getting stranger and stranger, and somehow laughter didn't seem very appropriate at the moment. 

"Family drama, indeed," sniffed Mrs Weasley. She looked around at Harry, Ron and Hermione. "Things were so much simpler before you all hit adolescence, weren't they? No wonder you haven't found a way to defeat You-Know-Who with all the time your tangled love lives must take up!" She stalked out of the room, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione red-faced and staring downwards. It occurred to Harry to wonder why they, three teenagers of all the witches and wizards in the world, should be held responsible for the fact that Voldemort was still strong, but there was no point in voicing the question. He knew that Ron and Hermione had no more idea than he did what the answer to that one was.

In the end, Hermione sent her note with Aeneas, and arrangements were made for Harry and Hermione to stay at the Burrow. Neither the twins nor Percy lived at home anymore, so Harry and Hermione had rooms to themselves. Harry was relieved, in a way not to have to room with Ron. While their differences seemed to have been set aside for the moment, things still felt a bit awkward. As it was, Harry had to borrow clothes from Ron, since he'd never planned on coming to stay, clothes that were all rather too long for him.

Later that afternoon, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all sitting in Ron's room. It was almost like old times, except…. No one was saying much of anything. In spite of Ron and Hermione's earlier declarations of being willing to help Harry do whatever was necessary to fix things, tension still weighed heavily about the three.

"Right," said Harry at last, breaking another uncomfortable silence. "We need to decide what we're going to do. We need to find a book, but we don't know its title. It may or may not exist. It may or may not be in Hogwarts library, and if it exists at all, it will certainly be in the Ministry's library. That seems to be what we have to go on. Thing is, what do we do about it?"

"I've seen the library at the Ministry," said Ron. "We could look through all the books there, but it would take about a year."

"We haven't got that sort of time, Ron," said Hermione. "With every day that passes, more and more people are in danger from You-Know-Who. We need to find a way to narrow the search down."

"Is there any sort of spell that might trigger my memory?" asked Harry. "Sort of like a Memory Charm but in reverse?"

Hermione considered this for a moment. "I can think of one or two, but they're not very reliable. They wouldn't have been taught at Hogwarts, because the staff wouldn't have wanted students relying on them instead of learning their lessons properly." She sounded very approving of this policy. 

"But do you know how to do any?" asked Ron. 

"As I said, the ones I know of aren't very reliable. I suppose we could try."

She took out her wand, pointed it at Harry's head. "Now you need to concentrate on what you're trying to remember." Harry closed his eyes and tried very hard to picture the red-bound tome in his mind's eye. Hermione muttered something that sounded like "_subvenire_". 

The image of the book wavered in Harry's mind, but no title appeared. "It didn't work," he said glumly. Hermione tried again with other spells, but none of them was able to make Harry recall the book's title.

"It's no use," he said after a while. Then he had a brainwave of another sort. "Dumbledore!"

"What?" said Ron. "The book isn't called Dumbledore, is it?"

"Of course not," replied Harry. "I told you this morning. Dumbledore asked me about that spell. Maybe he knows what book it's in. And if he doesn't, maybe Madam Pince does. We need to send him an owl."

"Can't," Ron pointed out. "Hermione's sent Aeneas to her mum, and Ginny's sent Pig out with a letter to Malfoy."

"Well as soon as one of them comes back, we'll send a letter to Dumbledore," said Hermione. "There's not a whole lot more we can do."

"Unless Hedwig turns up." The other two looked at Harry. "I let her out to hunt last night before we set out. She's got enough sense to track me down, I'm sure of it." He hoped he was right. He knew his snowy owl had enough sense to find him, as long as she was in a condition to do so. As long as she hadn't been at Hermione's when the attack occurred.

"She'll turn up, Harry," said Hermione bracingly.

Ron found Harry some parchment and a quill among his school things. Harry began to write but soon paused. "Do you think we may as well ask Dumbledore to send us the book?"

"Dunno," said Ron. "Do we even know where he goes over the summer holidays? You don't think he stays at the school, do you?"

"No idea."

"We never even found out where McGonagall slept, and she used to be our head of house," said Hermione. "Strange, really, when you think about it. It's like it was a big secret."

"Her room couldn't have been that far from Gryffindor Tower," said Ron. "She used to turn up pretty quickly any time things got too noisy." Hermione gave him an odd look. "What? You don't think I completely lost my memories of being in Gryffindor when they split us all up, do you?"

Hermione didn't answer, but she looked uncomfortable again. Harry sighed. This was getting tedious.

"All right. I'll ask him to send the book along if possible. Otherwise we'll just have to hope he can give us the title and go into the Ministry to find it."

Harry finished off his letter, and then there was nothing to do but wait until an owl was available to send it. 

Later that night Harry lay in bed, unable to fall asleep, in spite of having been up the entire previous night. The letter to Dumbledore was still lying on the chest of drawers in Ron's room waiting to be sent, but that wasn't the reason Harry was having trouble drifting off. No, it was Ginny. He couldn't get her out of his head, and it was as if she was haunting him. 

If he was going to be staying at the Burrow for an indefinite period of time, this was going to become pure torture. He would see her every day, so like the Ginny he knew, the Ginny who loved him, but yet so different. She looked the same; she sounded the same. She'd even tasted the same when he'd kissed her earlier. But she wasn't the same person here. She was harder somehow. Harry had no idea if this was some sort of effect brought about by her relationship with Malfoy, or a result of something else.

He had no idea how much of this he'd be able to take, but at the moment he felt as if he wasn't far from being driven over the edge. Some rational part of his brain told him some of this was a lack of sleep, but he couldn't get to sleep. All he could think of was Ginny and how he only wanted to hold her and know she accepted and loved him. It was a vicious circle.

He got out of bed, put on his glasses and carefully walked over to the window. This was Fred and George's old room, and he was sure there might still be a dangerous item or two lurking in a corner. The night was clear and starlit, but the moon had not yet risen. The world seemed to be a peace. As he stared up at the sky, he thought he saw movement. A tiny point out there was growing larger. And whiter. The next thing he knew, Hedwig was at the window, and Harry's heart leapt as he raised the window to let her in. She seemed to be unhurt, and he felt as if finally something was going right. He stroked her beak with a finger, and she hooted in greeting.

Harry remembered the letter, and he was filled with a sense of urgency. Something told him he needed to send it out tonight, but perhaps that was only his own sense of frustration with this world. The sooner he sent that letter the sooner he could go back to where he belonged. 

Leaving Hedwig on the windowsill, he stole across to the door and opened it quietly. Across the landing he saw the door to Ginny's room silently cursed his fate once more that he should be so close and yet so far. If he was back where he belonged, he'd have been spending the summer here at the Burrow, and while he knew Ginny's room would have been strictly off-limits to him, he'd have at least been welcome there.

Moving as quickly and quietly as possible, he climbed the stairs to Ron's room and knocked quietly. There was no answer. Ron was almost certainly asleep. Harry opened the door silently and tiptoed to the chest of drawers, picked up the parchment on which he'd written the letter to Dumbledore, and took it back down to his room. 

He rapidly tied the parchment to Hedwig's leg. "Sorry, old girl. I know you just got here, but this is important. I need you to take this to Dumbledore right away."

Hedwig hooted in reply, and Harry was confident she was up to the task. She'd never failed him yet. He watched as she took off into the night, remaining at the window until he could no longer see her. He climbed back into bed, feeling much better about things, and soon drifted off to sleep.


End file.
